


Contagion

by SunnseanicArts



Series: Arrows and Bullets [6]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Established Storyline, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Immunity, Internalized Homophobia, Involuntary Medical Treatment, Kidnapping, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major Character death?, Mental Healing, Mental Health Issues, Non-Penetrative Sex, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Plotheavy, Racial slurs, Series Finale, Slash, Violence, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:12:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 132,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3151853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnseanicArts/pseuds/SunnseanicArts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite the fall of Woodbury, team Connor/Daryl/Murphy are stronger and better than ever. Content and happy with their individual relationships after having overcome many obstacles, they are ready to face a possible new beginning at a new location on their postapocalyptic road trip. Coming just in time to save and reunite with their old group around Rick Grimes, it seems like luck is finally on their side.</p><p>If it weren't for the MacManus twins' immunity finally catching up to them....<br/>Final part of my Arrows and Bullets series. Takes place during season 5A of Walking Dead, but with a bunch of changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Terminus

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is. The FINAL part of my Walking Saints series. I've spent three years writing this story, developing the characters and their relationships, and I'm incredibly proud of them. But with all character building and relationship and story development comes an end and I've felt for a while now that this is going to be it, so here we are.
> 
> This fic won't be as long as the previous three. I will only cover the first half of season 5. The final arc and ending of this fic is already mapped out and planned ahead. I know what's in the last chapter. So there's that. No maybe writing 5B. There's your definite no.
> 
> Just like any other time: I will stick to the Walking Dead storyline for the most part, but I will bend it and change it to fit my own established canon. Characters will be replaced, dialogue will be altered, you know the drill. The core of my story is the Connor/Daryl and Connor/Murphy and even the Daryl/Murphy dynamic by now, so excuse my robbing other Walking Dead characters' storylines and badassery and dialogue and actions sometimes, for the sake of Connaryl Connarphy development. I'm just horribly shitty at writing any TWD characters other than Daryl.
> 
> I want to take this opportunity to thank all of my readers and all those people who have stayed with me during my writing of this series, all of those people who have only just stumbled upon it and read all of it in like less than a week. Thank you SO much for all your support, your reading, your comments, your kuddos, your favouriting and all your incredibly kind words of adoration and excitement for this story, its characters and relationships.
> 
> Thank you so much. Here is the final part for you, and I hope you view it as a worthy ending and conclusion.

 

 

There was a loud whooshing zap, speeding through the air until it hit the sign right in the middle with a dull BLONG. “Ha. Fuck yeah” Connor said, chuckling to himself a little as he lowered the bow and turned his head a little to give his friend and brother a cocky smirk, making sure everyone took note of his achievement.  
  
“Fuck. _Yeah_.”  
  
“Seriously?” Daryl asked with an annoyed little frown, walking up to the sign with the map that once again read TERMINUS to pull the arrow out and take a look at it. He bent it a little and then turned around to face Connor once his friend had walked up to him, only to give him a gentle but still firm pat to the back of his head. “Stop wastin arrows. Shit like that don’t last for too long. And if you keep firing and break them for nothing, ain’t gonna have none left in case shit hits the fan. _Moron_ ” Daryl lectured his friend about the art of shooting bows and crossbows, only to keep the arrow and start walking down the train tracks again.  
  
“But I still hit it right in the hole. Fuckin A.”  
  
“Don't make this a game. Seriously, how old are yah, five? This is stupid” Daryl muttered.  
  
Murphy let out a triumphant little “Ha” in the background. “Now who’s the older one ‘round here, huh dear brother ‘o mine.”  
  
“Blow me, yah little shit” Connor muttered and gave his sibling a judging glare, but in the end, it turned into a shared smirk between the both of them. Murphy just shrugged and scratched his upper lip a bit, only to turn his head and resume talking to Samantha instead.  
  
“Yah bro’s right. Maybe I should’ve given this thing t’him. I’m actually startin to like this one more. Less of a drama queen slash freakin child than you are, leprechaun.”  
  
Connor huffed.  
  
“Oh right, this is how ye thank me fer saving yer ass yesterday. If it weren’t fer me ye’d all be fuckin dead, so who’s talkin.”  
  
Daryl huffed, too and then snorted.  
  
“I would’ve managed. Don’t need no one t’save my ass.”  
  
“Ae, yer certainly _saving_ yer ass fer something fer sure” Connor said but couldn’t fight the grin that broke through as he even dared to nudge his friend’s ass a little. Although Daryl didn’t want to he still laughed and walked a bit faster to get out of his friend’s reach.  
  
“Fuck off you faggot.”  
  
“And I’m gonna do it alllll without ye if ye keep being that redneck ass taday” Connor crowed and Daryl laughed again. They didn’t get to tease each other and call each other names any longer, because then they suddenly heard the dry groaning and moaning sound of one walker at first, then there was the shuffling of leaves, then the noise got louder.  
  
“Shit, tha’s gotta be a herd” Connor said and quickly turned around, shooting Murphy and then Samantha and the child a worried look. Murphy had momentarily been laughing and chatting, too, at least until he noticed the vibes his twin was giving off, then he heard him whisper-shout his name, too. “Get off the tracks, quick, into the woods” Connor ordered and pointed towards their right. Murphy immediately grabbed Sam by her arm and dragged her to the side, off the tracks, towards the bushes and hills there.  
  
Daryl did the same a second later to Connor, grabbing him by his arm to yank him off the trail. Mere split seconds later the herd of walkers was already staggering out of the woods to their left, moaning, collectively stumbling towards whatever they had heard to get them going. Connor watched them through the leaves of the bushes while Murphy and Samantha were busy muffling Suzie’s babbling and impending crying, trying hard not to get the walkers intention. Daryl watched the three for a moment and then turned his head to look at Connor.  
  
“Kid’s gonna draw ‘em right towards them. Ain’t gonna be no prob for yah two, but us? We gotta do something quick.”  
  
Connor nodded, all the while watching and counting the herd. There were too many of them for him to kill, no matter how immune he was. He’d just end up drawing their attention to Sam, Daryl and Suzie by the time he’d dropped a couple of bodies and he knew it. There was only one option. He reached for his hip to get his knife.  
  
“Look after ‘em stay back here. ‘m gonna lure them away and be right back. If I don’t show….”  
  
The sound of loud and rattling gunshots interrupted him and made the whole group look up in wonder just like the walkers, who slowly turned their decaying heads to look in the same direction, facing the noise. As if someone had flipped a switch in their decaying brains they almost simultaneously and synchronically turned on their heels on the train tracks and started to stagger towards the noise instead, away from the hiding group in the woods, still moaning and groaning, occasionally bumping into each other. Connor, Daryl, Murphy and Samantha still held their breath and cautiously watched the herd stumble away from them, waited for them to get out of sight and then some, until it was Connor who first spoke up and signaled them that they could get back up.  
  
“Well that was easier than I thought” Murphy said and then made sure his girlfriend was alright.  
  
“Aye, I was gonna lure them away but looks like someone took care of it” Connor agreed and then shrugged, getting back on the train tracks to look in the general direction of where the walkers had headed before they had lost sight of them.  
  
“You think the shots came from Terminus?” Daryl asked and looked at Connor, who scratched the back of his head and then nodded, all the while walking back to look at the map he’d shot moments before.  
  
“Aye. I mean we’re pretty close ta that after all now, aren’t we then.”  
  
“Do you think we should still go there?” Samantha asked, looking at the map, too. Then at Connor, who nodded once again.  
  
“We gotta at least check it out from afar. See how they handle walkers. I mean it’s pretty nice, that way we can already check out the way they handle their defenses and what kinda weapons and people they got.”  
  
“Aye” Murphy agreed, taking over the Suzie carrying duty because Samantha wanted to check out the map herself. It was a different map this time, one that didn’t show half of Georgia but more like their immediate surroundings. “And if they look fine and need help, we could also use this thing ta help them and make them trust us, couldn’t we?” the younger MacManus added and Connor nodded, smirking at his sibling.  
  
“Taken right outta my mouth, brother dear.”  
  
Daryl nodded, too, maybe once again slightly creeped out by the whole twin telepathy thing that seemed to get stronger between the MacManus brothers each day. He then got his crossbow ready and walked up to Sam, to stand right next to her and read the map with her, pointing at it.  
  
“If we double back a little and then head west, we could use this little hill over there to get a nice overview of their compound. They look like they got nothing surrounding them, giving them clear sight of their surroundings, can’t get too close.”  
  
“Yeah, and if they don’t look friendly we could head further west to hit this little town there to stock up on supplies” Sam said, making Daryl nod. “Hmhm. My thinkin.”  
  
“Alright, lets get going people. We don’t wanna miss their big walker show do we” Connor said after a short moment of watching them plot, feeling a bit left out and jealous because he wasn’t the one to plan everything for once. He nudged Daryl’s shoulder a little to make him get away from the map so he could take a look at it on his own, shortly, making the hunter smirk knowingly, because he saw right through his friend.

* * *

 

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” Connor said once more, quickly ducking down when he noticed the man by the car in front of the little hut. He grabbed Murphy by his shirt to yank him down, so they could hide and spy once more, all the while using his other hand to signal Sam that she should stay back and double back a little, just to make sure the child wouldn’t interfere. Daryl used the time to sneak his way past the MacManus twins and further to the right, trying to get the angle on the hut and the guy that was crouching in front of it, trying to check if he could see anyone else.  
  
“ Yeah, no. Alex didn’t get it. I knew the chick with the sword was bad news. Looked like a weapon with a weapon” the man said, still crouching and preparing what Connor thought looked like fireworks. They heard someone answer on the radio, but couldn’t quite make out what was being said. “Yeah I told him I want the kid’s sheriff hat as soon as they bleed him out. Scruffy papa bear ain’t gonna like it” he went on, laughing.  
  
Both Connor and Daryl frowned at the sound of that, connecting all the dots.  
  
Michonne.  
Carl.  
Rick.  
  
They both even turned their heads to look at each other for a moment, with Daryl nodding to make Connor understand that he thought the same. Connor nodded too and then started giving directions to his group with his left hand. Daryl proceeded to walk further right, still crouched down. Sam, who had put her daughter on the ground and was hovering protectively over her, had grabbed the rifle with the sight they had taken from the claimer gang to position herself and give them cover. Then Connor nudged Murphy a little and the both of them proceeded to walk forward, sneaking up on the guy who was busy putting up a second set of fireworks, still talking to what now sounded like a woman on the walkie-talkie.  
  
At least until he felt the muzzle of Connor’s handgun on the back of his head.  
  
“Now isn’t that a lovely firework ye got going there, fella. What are ye gonna do with dat, then, celebrate the fourth of july? Maybe have a sweet lil barbeque down here?” Connor asked and smirked a little when he saw the man surrender and put his hands in the air.  
  
“Listen you don’t have to do this” the guy said, trying to sneak a peek at Connor.  
  
Murphy used the time his brother was keeping the guy in place to kneel down and start searching their captive for weapons, taking a knife and gun.  
  
“Whatever it is that you want, we got a place where everyone is welcome” the man went on, making Connor huff. The Irishman looked up for a moment when he saw Daryl approach them from the other side, giving the Irishmen a nod, letting them know that the place was clear and that the stranger had been all on his own. While the twins were still busy with their captive Daryl used the time to check the hut and then whistled when this one was clear, too, letting Sam know that she could come out with her daughter.  
  
“Wow, a place where everyone’s welcome, now that’s interesting. Is that Terminus yer talking about?” Connor said, pressing the gun to the back of the man’s head a little more, to remind him who was in charge.  
  
“Ah, geez, yes. Yes. You saw the signs, huh? Cool. Listen man, I know the protocol. But you can relax. You came and you found us so…”  
  
“Aye, it sure sounds like we came and found ye just like the chick with te sword and the kid with te sheriff’s hat. See, they’re our friends. I’m pretty sure yer talking about a woman called Michonne and a boy named Carl. Know anything about them? What about the other people they were with, were they welcome, too?”  
  
“No…no. It’s just the two of them. They asked us the same…they’re back at Terminus waiting for your people, you can wait there, too if you…” he was interrupted when the grip of Connor’s gun suddenly hit him very hard in the back of his head, making him fall forward with a painfilled grunt.  
  
“See, there’s one thing I don’t fuckin like…” Connor said, grabbing the man by the back of his shirt to pull him back up, burying the fingers along with the tattooed one that spelled out ‘VERITAS’ in the fabric.  
  
“It’s liars.”

* * *

“They attacked us, we’re just holding them. we just have the boy and the samurai that’s all. We were just protecting ourselves” the man who was named Martin tried to explain, sitting on the ground all tied up and facing Connor, who was crouching opposite him, staring him down. Connor, fed up with the talk, proceeded to grab the man by his throat and started strangling him, getting closer to his face, his face nothing but a dead serious half-whisper.  
  
“Don’t fuckin pretend we didn’t fuckin hear ye talk about bleeding people out fer the sake of taking their shit. I said I hate fuckin liars” he snarled, squeezing even tighter to a point where he actually considered just crushing the guy’s windpipe for the sake of it, but he could feel Daryl, Murphy and Sam watch him with those looks on their faces, so he eventually let go.

Martin coughed and struggled for a moment but then suddenly actually chuckled.  
  
“There’s a bunch of us out there. In six different directions. There’s a lot of gunfire back home.”  
  
Connor, who stared creepily at the guy for a little too long, finally smirked.  
  
“Well, I got a lot of gunfire, too. Trust me, pally. We’re experts at crushing parties just like that.”  
  
Martin, slowly understanding that he couldn’t exactly scare the Irishman or get to his head, turned his head a little to look at Samantha instead.  
  
“We need to set off our charges all at the same time to confuse the dead ones away. That’s good for you, too!”  
  
Samantha just stared at the man for a moment, coldly, still shaken and hardened from the claimer attack.  
As soon as she had heard about the bleeding out as well as the fact that there was a boy caught in this mess she had lost any sort of empathy. Not anymore.  
  
“Well it ain’t” Daryl said and walked over to the crate filled with fireworks, the ones Martin had brought along with him.  
  
“Aye. There’s a herd heading toward Terminus, right now. Don’t ye like that Martin, boy?” Connor asked, slapping the man almost tenderly to make him look at him again. “We don’t wanna confuse them away. We wanna use them as little welcome gift. I mean ye said so yerself, yer welcoming everyone, right.”  
  
Martin, annoyed by Connor’s behavior, just snorted and gave the Irishman an unconcerned look.  
  
“It’s a compound. They’ll see you coming. If you even make it that far with all the cold bodies heading over.”  
  
“Oh trust me, they’re the least of our problems . Now before we leave, do tell me, how many of ye are there exactly?”  
  
Martin just looked right back at Connor, now openly grinning.  
  
“Too many for you to handle.”  
  
Connor turned his head for a moment to look at the others, sighing.  
  
“Always with the cocky ones. If I got a dollar everytime I hear that one…” he said and then looked right back at Martin.  
  
“We’ll see about that. Thanks fer yer cooperation, though. That was fun” Connor said and then grabbed his knife, reading to kill their hostage, at least until Daryl spoke up to stop him. He’d watched the whole scenario for a while, getting more and more worried about the way Connor seemed to enjoy it, the way his eyes looked and the way his body count just seemed to rise these days, so he called out, right before the stab, to stop his friend.  
  
“We should keep ‘im” he said, shooting Murphy a little look and then stepping forward.  
  
“As leverage and backup plan. In case shit goes haywire. Maybe we could use ‘im. For an exchange.”  
  
Connor looked back at Daryl, a little annoyed and impatient about the fact that he was getting interrupted, that someone wanted to stop him from having his way, but then he took a little breath and considered it. Murphy, who was partially on the same page as Connor with their shared saint mentally and wouldn’t mind seeing this murderous scumbag die, in the end, decided to speak up too. Because he was still equally creeped out by the way Connor was still throwing himself at the whole killing people thing these days.  
  
“Aye. I think so, too, Conn” he said, making Daryl look at him for a moment, almost thankfully.  
  
All three of them knew that Murphy was the soft spot, that whenever he said something, in the end, Connor wouldn’t be able to say no.  
  
Martin, once again, only huffed and made fun of them.  
  
“Man, if you believe that they’re gonna trade me for shit, it’s definitely gonna be you who’s gonna die today.”  
  
Only a second later, there was a harsh, unforgiving fist in his face, knocking him right out. Connor shook his hand after the punch with a little hiss and looked at his unconscious captive. “Shut te fuck up. Geez” he said angrily and then got up, still massaging his hand. He’d taken it a little too personal, the way the guy had said just _this_ to Murphy.  
  
“Alright. If ye wanna keep ‘im, keep ‘im. But watch fuckin over him, alright” Connor said, walking up to Daryl to grab some of the fireworks. He looked at Samantha in the meantime.  
  
“Ye stay back here with te kid. Daryl’s gonna look after ye and…”  
  
“I don’t need anyone to look after me” Sam reminded him angrily, and Connor just kept talking.  
  
“Yeah and I sure as hell ain’t no babysitter. Rick’n Carl are family, too. They’d be pissed if I didn’t come looking for them. ‘m gonna come with you” Daryl spoke up, too, because there was no way in hell he was going to let the two of them check out the new location without him.

“Daryl..” Connor said but then Murphy spoke up, too.  
  
“And I’m not gonna leave her and the baby alone with ‘im here” he said, nodding at unconscious Martin.  
  
Then it was Sam who spoke up angrily.  
  
“No. You three should go. Suzie and I can look after us just fine. We managed before we met you. You should take as much man power with you as you can” Sam said, making Murphy turn around to look at her.  
  
“Then there’s no way we’re keeping him alive with you and te kid here” Connor said in the meantime, already on his way to walk back to unconscious Martin, but Murphy stepped up once more.  
  
“No, fuckin wait. We said we’d keep him captive and think this fuckin through! What if they ask about him if shit goes wrong and they’re keeping our people captive. We’re not gonna make it look any good if we kill their man! How about this, ye and Daryl, you go out there scout the place out, come up with a plan. If we hear more gunshots we know it’s on and I kill ‘im and come right after ye. If it’s not, ye come back and we can use ‘im. I mean have ye even thought this through yet? All we know is that Rick’n the others are there and that these people are shady as fuck but other than that?”  
  
He then looked at Daryl.

“Besides, no offense but I don’t fuckin trust him ta look after Sam and the baby anyway” he said, not really meaning it. After their talk by the plane wreck two days ago, he sure as hell trusted Daryl and considered him family.  
  
And Daryl knew that, too, but right now he wanted to use it as well to play Connor, to keep him from gutting yet another guy without any real reason anyway.

“Let him stay here then if he gotta. Ain’t nothing we can’t handle ourselves.”  
  
Connor pressed his lips together, seeing right through this whole thing almost immediately, how he was being played by his friend and brother. In the end he gave in, no matter how much he disliked it. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy working with Daryl. It was just that during a gig like this, he’d rather have worked with his brother instead, as the old Boston saints.  
  
“Fuckin fine” Connor muttered and then grabbed the fireworks and some of the heavier guns, only to turn around to look at Murphy. “If ye hear shit go down you fuckin come running and help us, alright?” he said to him, pressing his lips together a little more. “I fuckin need ye on this.”  
  
Murphy nodded, reaching out a little to reassure Connor.  
  
“I’ll be there” he said, then gave Daryl a little nod.  
  
“Let’s fuckin go! The herd should be there, soon” Connor then said and walked outside.  
  
“Watch your ass, emo kid” Daryl said to Murphy a short moment later, when it was just the two of them, acknowledging their little mind play. The younger MacManus smirked and shoved the hunter a little.  
  
“I’d say don’t get eaten out there, but it’s not like anyone’d ever eat yer filthy redneck ass anyway” Murphy teased a little but then chuckled. “No, ye too. We got it covered.”  
  
“Look after the kid. Got a habit of bein a freakin magnet t’trouble” Daryl then said to Samantha, who smirked and gave him a nod, too.

* * *

 

“Wait” Connor said, placing a firm hand on Daryl’s chest to make him stop walking. The hunter frowned a little and had a look around to check why his friend had stopped in his tracks, only to get even more confused when he saw the cause. A single walker was shuffling through the woods. No herd. No other trouble.  
  
“It’s just the one” the hunter mumbled and Connor buried his fingers a little in his friend’s shirt.  
  
“Aye” he muttered. “I got an idea” he then said and started walking, heading for the walker, whistling when he was close enough. The walker turned around with a snarl and looked at Connor for a moment, only to eventually look past him and get fixated on Daryl instead, who was still standing where his friend had made him stop. He let out a furious growl and tried to shuffle towards the hunter, but then Connor already tackled him down and then stabbed his head, silencing the undead at last.  
  
Daryl, still confused by this whole thing because he knew they needed to keep going, approached his friend after a moment when he saw Connor stab the walker’s guts and then proceeded to open his belly.  
  
“You…..seriously need t’get yah head checked man” Daryl eventually said, worry now truly showing in his voice because he didn’t quite get it.  
  
“Shut up and kneel down” Connor said with a little strained huff, then grabbed the clothes of the walker to get rid of his long coat. Then he grabbed the old bloody and dirty shirt to cut it up, to use the cloth as some sort of makeshift gloves. He then threw the coat at his friend.  
  
“Put it on, zip it up.”  
  
Daryl caught it with a huff and then snorted, looking at the coat.  
  
“The hell ‘m gonna do. What yah wanna do? If it’s some of yah weirdo saints crap and yah wanna go in there Men in Black style I ain’t gonna..”  
  
“Would ye fuckin shut up and put it on?! Geez. It’s like ‘m talking ta a fuckin mule.”  
  
“Hey fuck you, who died and made you boss, asswipe” Daryl snarled back angrily but eventually obeyed, still confused by the whole thing. But only a second later did it already make sense, because the moment he put the coat on, Connor had already soaked his gloved hands in walker blood and guts, all dripping and stinking, and then turned around to press his hands to the hunter’s chest, starting to what felt like feel him up.  
  
Rubbing the guts and blood in.  
  
_Right…._ Daryl thought as he finally got it. But it was still disgusting.  
  
“Jesus” he grunted and turned his head away a little, moaning and holding his breath because it stank like hell. Connor, who had been pissy just a second later, almost immediately started grinning at him, drenching the gloves with guts and blood a little more, proceeding to cover his friend with it.  
  
“Can’t smell a difference” Connor teased and Daryl huffed angrily, but he eventually smirked a little, too, despite the smell, because he actually liked the thing that accompanied the whole process, like the way Connor’s hands were all over him. “I hate you” Daryl said but endured, making Connor laugh once more, until the Irishman leaned forward to steal a kiss, now that it was just the two of them, and now that he kind of enjoyed the whole touching thing as well.  
  
“I know, I know” Connor said and then immediately stopped, turning away, coughing but at the same time laughing.  
  
“Jesus fuckin Christ this does smell awful. Fuck” he laughed, burying his mouth and nose in the crook of his arm for a moment.  
  
“I’m so not gonna get close ta you or so not gonna fuck ye fer like a week now” Connor said, once again coughing and concentrating hard, battling the urge to throw up as he dug his hands into the walker’s cut up belly once more.  
  
“Don’t matter, considering I do all the fuckin” Daryl growled right back but still smirked, making Connor snort and laugh once more.  
  
“Talk all high and mighty again when yer not covered in walker shit and when he don’t have a nice intestine fuckin necklace” the Irishman countered and then made Daryl turn around to cover his back with guts and blood, too.  
  
“Geez, thank fuckin god I got that immunity thing going. There’s no fucking way I’d do that.”  
  
“Yeah, don’t want yah high heels all spoiled and dirty, right” Daryl teased and Connor used the rubbing motion to punch him a little.  
  
“All right, I think this is it….” Connor then said, letting go. “I’m Connor MacManus and this is pimp my style” he said when Daryl turned around to face him, making the Irishman laugh at his own joke.  
  
“I hate to say it, but ye definitely look more dashing than ever, Darylena” he went on, teasing some more.  
  
Daryl got annoyed and angry at first, but then decided to strike back with the same weapons.  
  
“Yeah? Wanna give me a hug?” he said a little angrily and proceeded to approach the Irishman, all slimy and stinking with walker guts.  
  
“Jesus fuck, no, fuck off” Connor laughed and jogged away a little, laughing, until he was finally done playing, got rid of his makeshift gloves and threw them as far away as possible.  
  
“No fer real though. I think this way, ye should be clear from walkers. Yer gonna need it. I got an idea.”

* * *

“She got a name? She your daughter or something?” Martin, who’d finally woken up again, asked Samantha who was sitting by the window, cradling Suzie, feeding her. Sam just shot him a look but wouldn’t answer. Murphy did the same, for a moment, then subconsciously got closer to her, growing protective as he watched the man cautiously.  
  
“What about that guy…got one hell of a right hook” Martin went on, trying to readjust his jaw a little. “He your boss?” he asked, talking about Connor.  
  
Once again, nothing but silence. Murphy kept watching him cautiously, trying to make sense of the guy, considering what to do with him. He kind of wanted to kill him too because he was annoying and a douchebag, but then again, Connor had told him about the plan and he liked to follow instructions and listen to plans and people with plans.  
  
“Friend? I don’t have any friends. I mean I know people. They’re just assholes I stay alive with….” Martin rambled, now looking more and more at Samantha, as if he was trying to get to her head.  
  
“I mean I used to have ‘em. We used to watch football on Sundays….” Martin said and Murphy finally moved, walking over to the back of the hut to try and maybe find something he could use to gag the guy just so he would shut the hell up. Martin noticed the tattoo on Murphy’s neck as well as the rosary when the younger MacManus passed him, using it as another hook to bait him.  
  
“I went to church back in the day” he said, laughing a little after a moment, making Murphy look at him. “I know I did. But I can’t picture it anymore. It’s funny how you don’t even notice the time go by. Horrible shit just stacks up day after day. You get used to it. But still….church… you’re religious aren’t you?”  
  
Murphy stared at him a little while longer, then turned his head again to proceed looking for something to gag the guy with, growling an annoyed little “Shut up.” Sam, who had successfully fed Suzie and lulled her to sleep with her rocking, got up, too, to put her on the old shabby couch on the other end of the hut, far opposite Martin.  
  
“Got your kid, your friends and everythiingg, with boss taking the reigns, telling you what to do. You and your twin bro are the good kinda guys, huh. Believing in god and how he probably fixes everything. I mean, you two stepped up when he wanted to kill me. You just gotta be one of the good guys. Huh…”  
  
Murphy cursed a little when he couldn’t find anything, already felt his blood beginning to boil with his temper and sheer annoyance over how the guy just wouldn’t shut up.  
  
“Shame there ain’t no god in this world. And shame good guys don’t last here. Same goes for kids like her over there. She ain’t gonna make it past the day.”  
  
“Shut up!” Murphy shouted angrily and finally lost it, approaching the guy, ready to punch him, but Martin almost immediately raised both his hands in the air.  
  
“OR…you could get into that car outside, take your girlfriend and baby, drive away, and keep on being lucky. Let me free, win-win. For all three of us.”  
  
Murphy stilled mid-motion, only a split-second away from punching the guy for being so annoying, just standing there, staring.  
  
“I mean you guys kinda looked scared of big boss, like you want out. So….why not take your chances while you can?”  
  
Murphy looked at him a moment longer, until he huffed and snorted.  
  
“ _Suure_. Scared of dying, aren’tche. Don’t worry. Ye got what’s coming fer ye, asshole. Now do us all a favour…and shut te fuck up. Heard this shit before. ‘m not fuckin stupid.”  
  
“Why didn’t you let him killed me? How does having me alive help you? If you’re not stupid, you know damn well that there’s never gonna be any trade, why the hell are you even talking to me? Take her, take the car, and go. I don’t wanna do this today.”  
  
“Do what?” Murphy interrupted him and then knelt down in front of Martin, too, just like Connor had done it before, looking him right in the ye.  
  
“Kill a baby taday? Kill me or Sam today, kill people today? What about the days before that, hm? Didn’t sound like ye didn’t wanna bleed a little boy out. Or steal a sword from a woman. Or laugh about a Dad being worried about his son. Yeah, I’m a good guy. I believe in god. And I believe in what god told me _about killing every last evil motherfucker like ye_. So no…no I don’t think I’ll be taking that car. I’m gonna wait fer my brother, wait for the whole story ta develop…and then we’re gonna put two bullets through yer head and send ye on yer way. Someone’s dying taday. And it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me. Or this baby. Or anyone else but the right people who deserve it.”

He didn’t get to do or say anything else, because then they them heard again, outside, the collective growling and sad moaning of countless undead that were walking up to their hideout.

* * *

 

“See that? I think it’s that one” Connor said, as soon as they had successfully made it out of the woods, walking up to an old chain-link fence. They tried had to stay low now that the cover of the surrounding trees was gone, only a bunch of bushes by the street and fence where there to keep them hidden. Both Connor and Daryl crouched down by the fence, taking a closer look at the large building down the small hill, not too far away from them out in the open.  
  
“Well…the letters kinda give it away captain obvious” Daryl muttered and pointed at the large brick building that spelled out “TERMINUS” on its wall. Connor huffed a little and nudged his friend, only to grab the rifle they had brought to use it as sight to check the place out.  
  
“Looks like it was a former train station…there’s people down there…they got people on watch on the roofs and by the fences….gotta be at least 20 people. Maybe even more inside” Connor observed and but then Daryl snatched the rifle away from him to take a look at the compound himself. He scanned the whole area until he suddenly froze, widening his eyes.  
  
“Rick..!” he suddenly said, sounding all nervous and slightly panicked.  
  
Connor, who had been watching his friend check the place out through the sight, snatched it away again when for a split second, it looked like Daryl was about to fire it.  
  
“Gimme” he said angrily and then took a look himself, aiming it in the general direction he had seen Daryl point the gun at, until he widened his eyes as well. He could see them. Rick. Glenn. Bob. Another bunch of people he didn’t know. All tied up, gagged, lying on the ground until they were grabbed by the people from Terminus, people who were heavily armed and guiding them towards the brick building. He couldn’t help but remember what the Martin guy had said on the walkie about bleeding Carl out and taking Michonne’s knife, and he knew what it meant.  
  
“Shit I think they’re gonna execute them” Connor hissed and stopped looking through the rifle to get a general view of the compound.  
  
“We gotta go get Murph. Maybe even fuckin Sam. Take the guy and blackmail them. There’s too many people down there and we….”  
  
“We ain’t got no time to go back, man, they’re almost in there, they’re gonna gut ‘em , you heard the guy talk..”  
  
“It was yer fuckin idea ta keep him alive!”  
  
“It don’t matter right now, they’re gonna kill them!” Daryl shouted angrily and already wanted to get going, trying to get the rifle back, but Connor grabbed him to almost wrestle him back down, wincing and pulling a face when he grabbed the walker guts on Daryl’s clothes in the process.  
  
“Wait!” he whisper-shouted, his mind racing already.  
  
“Let’s think this through fer a fucking second, if we run in there head over heels no one’s gonna fucking survive this, let’s be fuckin smart about this” Connor said angrily and Daryl shot him a look, only to look back and forth between his friend and Terminus, where he saw them bring Rick and the others inside. He didn’t want to lose Rick. Didn’t want to lose anyone. Not under any circumstances.  
  
“Yah always bragged about doing nothing else back in the day when you killed mobsters, you prick! So go on, do it!”  
  
“We always did it because we had the element of surprise and a shitload of fucking bullets, man!” Connor said and then quickly grabbed the rifle again to have another look. He could catch the last glimpse of Rick getting shoved inside and then the door closing. He could already feel the sweat build and run down the back of his neck as he took a deep breath and then forced himself to stay calm, quickly scanning the property once more to come up with a plan.  
  
He kind of hated this whole thing right now. Yes, he was the guy with the plans, but he usually had enough time to plot and think it through until the very last detail, not like this in a hurry, when he had no time to think, Murphy was the gut instinct kinda guy, not him.  
  
Shooting any of them with the rifle would be useless. It would buy them a little time perhaps, but certainly not enough. And it would blow their cover and screw them all over. And it certainly wouldn’t stop them from killing Rick and the others. Terminus certainly had the advantage right now. They knew their places in and out, probably knew their surroundings, too. Back in the day this would have been the time to say that they should retreat, think this through, come up with a plan and right kind of materials and weapons to use to pull it through and kill every last one of them. The way they had done it back at the Roman’s place.  
  
But it didn’t work like that anymore because they didn’t have enough time, didn’t have a backup team or plan and they sure as hell didn’t have enough weapons. Just a bunch of knifes, some guns, a rifle and a package deal of fucking fireworks. And using the fireworks as distraction would be equally useless and stupid. It would get Murphy over here, yeah, but the others too and how much use was that, really.  
  
Fuck, fuck, fuck.  
  
Connor momentarily stilled when he caught glimpse of old gas tanks by the train tracks, a bit rusty and intact, spelling out “ARNETT, propane, NO SMOKING”.  
  
Fireworks. Fireworks. Noise. Distraction.  
Propane.  
  
And he got an idea. He already wanted to say something, wanted to explain his possible plan to Daryl, when he suddenly noticed the people by the tank who’d been taking watch widen their eyes and start yelling, pointing somewhere, and for a moment, Connor already thought he’d been spotted.  
  
“Do something!” Daryl pressed once more and then simply got up, ready to make his way down there, when he saw them, too.  
  
The herd had made it towards Terminus. Countless undead, who were walking directly towards the compound. En masse. Terrifying, a wall of death. Connor, who had pointed his rifle at them for a moment, turned it around once more to take aim at the propane tank.  
  
“Get yer ass back here and get te fireworks ready” he ordered and took a deep breath, trying to concentrate.  
  
“What?!” Daryl asked, confused, making Connor even angrier.  
  
“Get back on yer fuckin ass and get ready ta aim this thing at the tank over there!” he snapped and then aimed once more, waiting for the walkers to get close enough.  
  
“What for?”  
  
“I’m gonna go Streets of Fire on these motherfuckers” Connor said and then fired two shots until he saw a massive cloud of gas escape the perforated tank, hissing, deadly. Then he quickly threw the rifle away and grabbed his own lighter, positioning the fireworks, looking back and forth between them and the tank he’d shot.  
  
“Don’t tell me it’s another one of your movie plans, shit like that don’t ever work, we’re talking about Rick, here, man! Don’t’ play on…” Daryl said angrily, but Connor kept going.  
  
“It worked in this movie. I saw it, it worked like a charm! Guy wanted ta get his chick out of this biker club, started shooting their tanks up and they blew up with a fucking BANG. He blew the whole gang up, man, trust me, we need distraction, I got one” the Irishman said and then ignited the positioned rocket, quickly ducking down in case something went wrong.  
  
“We blow this thing up, it goes boom and the wal…” Connor tried to explain his plan but was interrupted by a surprisingly huge explosion down at the train station, with a blast wave they could even feel up there on their hill. The earth shook, then it was awkwardly quiet for a moment, until both Daryl and Connor looked up again, to face the mess the Irishman had created.  
  
The explosion had been huge. The tank was nowhere in sight, parts of the surrounding buildings were burning or catching fire already, half the herd of walkers and all of Terminus residents were lying on the ground, confused, some burning, some dead from the blast.  
  
“Wohoo, holy shit” Connor laughed, in disbelief, until he quickly got up.  
  
“Jesus” Daryl gasped, looking at the mess for a second. He could see that the brick building had also been damaged by the explosion, starting to develop smoke. There was no way in hell for those people in there to NOT have heard that, or worse. Maybe it wasn’t too late yet.  
  
“Can’t believe that worked” the humbled, a little confused and surprised by his friend, who just laughed some more and grabbed him by his shoulder to get him back up.  
  
“It’s all in the execution…now hurry. We gotta use te herd as cover ta enter their place, with these undead fucks infiltrating their place, gutting Rick and the others will be the least of their problems…Speaking of cover” Connor said after a second and then pressed a hand to Daryl’s chest once more, to get it dirty, and then used it to start covering his face a little with it, groaning a bit because it still smelled awful.  
  
Then he cleaned his hand on his jeans and shirt, trying to dirty them up a little as well but only subtly.  
  
“Come on” he then said and nudged Daryl once more, quickly grabbing the rifle to get going.

* * *

 

“Shit” Murphy said and sprinted towards the window to see and check what the hell was going on.  
  
He widened his eyes a little when he saw them, a whole bunch of walkers that were right in front of their hut, until one of them caught glimpse of him and started staggering in their direction.  
  
“Fuck! Sam, ye gotta…”Murphy said and startled a little when she was suddenly there, too, curious and worried about the noise.  
  
“Oh god” she said as Murphy placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
“You wait in here, keep an eye on Suzie and this fucker, while I…”  
  
The loud cry of the baby suddenly startled the both of them, making them turn around only to widen their eyes in horror. Martin had used the moment they had been busy looking outside to cross the room and grab Suzie, despite his restraints, holding her in an awkward angle, arm wrapped around her tiny neck, half choke-holding her already as he backed off a little.  
  
“DON’T” Martin shouted when he saw Sam lose it and try to run towards them in horror, yelling at him, telling him to let the fuck go of her daughter.  
  
“BACK OFF OR I OFF THE BABY!”

“LET HER FUCKING GO OR I DROP YE RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” Murphy yelled right back, gun drawn, ready to shoot the guy who clung even more to the little girl, making Sam sob and reach out.  
  
“YOU FUCKING MONSTER! SHE’S JUST A BABY! LET HER GO!”

Attracted by their yelling, all the walkers from outside were already starting to pile up on the windows, the door, everywhere, scratching at the walls, making everybody panic even more.  
  
“I WILL! If you play nice, huh, huh, yeah you’ll play nice” Martin said, still holding the baby captive, looking half panicked but also looking like he enjoyed having control over her life.  
  
“Now you, put the weapon on the ground, move it over. As soon as I got it, chick over there will approach me nice and slow. Gun for the kid. When you’re done, you go outside, kill these walkers and I make my way out back.”  
  
“DON’T YOU FUCKING…” Sam spat once more, furious, still trying to approach the guy who once again tightened his grip around her daughter’s neck, making her cry even more, only that the cries were getting muffled and choked from his grip.  
  
“ONE TWIST, MAN!” he shouted and Murphy finally reacted.  
  
“ALRIGHT ALRIGHT, FINE! Just let te fuckin kid go, ye piece of shit!” he shouted only to slowly crouch down, staring at Martin, making it look like he was listening and putting it to the ground. It was almost on the ground when Murphy suddenly pulled the trigger, hitting Martin in his shin, making him yelp in pain and drop Suzie in reflex so he could hold his leg with the broken bone in utter shock and horror.  
  
“GRAB HER AND GET TE FUCK OUTTA HERE!” Murphy shouted and then launched himself at Martin, while Sam quickly ran for her screaming daughter, picked her up and then ran for the back of the hut, the windows there, smashing one of those and then climbing outside the back so she wouldn’t have to run into the mob of walkers that was piling up on the front of the building.  
  
But it didn’t exactly help her much because the noise attracted them to the back. Murphy could hear the moaning and shuffling by the side of the hut, could hear Suzie’s cries get quieter outside as Sam tried to run away from the building and the herd, but the Irishman couldn’t help her, because now that he had tackled Martin to the ground to keep him from getting to Sam and the child, the guy was now clinging to him, trying to keep him in place with him while some of the walkers already climbed and stumbled through the smashed window, attracted by Martin’s yelling.  
  
“I TOLD YOU YOU’RE GONNA DIE! I TOLD YOU…” he screamed, obviously thinking that he could kill Murphy along with him by keeping him here and making the walkers attack him, but the Irishman managed to free himself, stumbling back a little with his chest heaving, staring down at laughing but at the same time half screaming Martin, who now got back to holding his shot leg.  
  
“Too late. We’re surrounded, buddy” Martin laughed at him, grinning, despite his obvious fear of dying. “Good guys who save babies and chicks always die first in this world…they’re gonna eat me…and they’re gonna eat you. Should’ve taken the car when you had the chance.”  
  
Murphy just looked at the guy, his chest heaving, and for a moment he actually considered proofing him wrong. He wanted to be evil and smug about it, wanted to open the door, let all the walkers in, let the guy see that the walkers weren’t going to do shit to him with his immunity and then watch them eat the fucker alive. For a moment he was so furious about the fact that Martin had seriously tried to threaten and kill a BABY that he actually really wanted to pull this through, but in the end, he decided against it.  
  
Because no. He wasn’t like that. These days, he was constantly worried about Connor slipping, Connor being too far gone with his vengeance and wrath and killings after what had happened at Woodbury. It would make him a hypocrite if he went down the same path now. No. It was wrong. They were still human beings. Killing evil scumbags was right, but just like back in the old days, doing it as twisted as them was not. Back then they had shot people up and that quickly, trying to kill them as efficiently and quickly as possible, giving them pennies to send them on their way.  
  
And he was going to keep doing that. No matter how fucked up the world was, no matter how easy and satisfying it could be.  
  
So he picked up his gun, raised it once more and then aimed it at the guy’s head.  
  
“NO” Martin said, but Murphy ignored him  
  
“Shut up!” he said and then pulled the trigger, sending a bullet right through Martin’s head, killing him. Murphy then tugged the gun away, looking at the dead body once more, until he quickly ran for the door, opened it, and pressed his back to the wall right next to it, letting the walkers who had piled up on the door enter.  
  
The first one to stumble inside quickly turned around and staggered in his direction for a moment, snarling, looking terrifying, and even now, Murphy couldn’t help but flinch and tense up, pulling a face because of the smell of rotten flesh and decaying bodies. The walker stared at him for a moment, came closer, snarled once more, almost sniffing a bit and then finally turned away, with the others doing the same because then they smelled it, the fresh blood, the body on the floor.  
  
They collectively staggered towards Martin’s body and then fell to their knees, already tearing at the flesh, biting it and chewing on it with disgusting smacking sounds, sounds that made Murphy want to vomit as he waited for the last bunch of walkers to enter the building. As soon as he spotted a gap he was out and running, running towards the outer back of the hut, eager to find Sam and her child, calling out for her, but she was nowhere in sight. Only in the far distance did he believe to see that last bunch of shuffling corpses, members of the herd that had split up in order to pursue the woman and her baby.  
  
“SAM!” Murphy shouted once more and started running, hoping to catch up to her, hoping to get to her before the walkers did, so he could protect them and kill the undead before they managed to surround her.

 


	2. Innocence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well helllooooooo. It only took me like 5 months to update. I am SO sorry. So much stuff got in the way. Moving. Finishing university, doing a fulltime internship, other stuff that killed my creativity, but then it suddenly hit me again yesterday, and I FINALLY managed to finish this new chapter.
> 
> Excuse the slight awkwardness and mediocrity of this chapter, but it was really really hard getting back into character after so many months. I hope to write better stuff from now on again, though. I've never forgotten about the main path and storyline of this fic and I'm still hoping it will be as good as it is in my head. You know the drill, some of it is the same as the season, but some of it is different, and I'm very very excited to write MY take on Eugene/Abraham and the immunity stuff with Conphy thrown in the mix, that should be really interesting and fun. There's also gonna be some more Connaryl sexay times eventually, so boom.
> 
> I hope some readers are still with me and that you still like my writing!

The smell of burning flesh and fire was all around them as they walked among the walkers, somewhat trying to keep their pace, only walking a little bit faster so they could get there in time. Despite the fact that he knew Connor had his back and that he was invisible to the walkers because of his cover right now, Daryl couldn’t exactly shake that tense feeling off, the fear, the anticipation that at any given moment, the undead could see right through his disguise, and attack him.

There was chaos all around them as they finally entered the compound, stepped over the fence Connor had blown up with that massive explosion. There was fire and smoke everywhere, making it hard to see the enemy, or their friends for that matter. At the same time, he partially thanked god for the fact that there was smoke to cover them even more, because then there they were, the gunshots, hitting the walkers around them every once in a while, in a dead torso, or more dangerous, in the head. The smoke made it easier for them to blend in, sneak in, get closer and closer to the enemy.

There were screams in the distance, or sometimes very close to them, screams of women and men lying on the ground and getting torn apart by the undead. People from Terminus or someone else, Daryl didn’t know, the sight shocked him nevertheless. He knew it was a necessary distraction, knew that it was necessary to keep them off guard so they could get to Rick and the others, but he still didn’t like it. Never liked it when people had to die for whatever reason unless he knew for a fact that they were evil sons of bitches.

And not just the hail of bullets, bad sight, smell of death and all the screams were making it hard. When Daryl turned his head slightly to look at Connor, he once again saw that his friend had a surprisingly cold look on his face, indifferent to the whole mayhem, including the screaming woman on the ground as they passed her. He didn’t even look at her, didn’t even seem to hear her. All he did was keep his eyes focused on the rooftops of Terminus, rifle now drawn as he aimed it at the first figure. The “no women” rule he had once told him about seemed to be forgotten. Forced out after what had happened in Woodbury.

“See ‘em anywhere?” Connor hissed when he noticed he was being watched, and Daryl finally looked away to scan the smoky surroundings for Rick, Carl, Michonne or anyone else.  
  
“No. I think they’re still in the…”  
  
Connor took a sudden well aimed shot in sync to the distant but regular rattling of guns on the other side of the compound, hoping to make it harder for the enemy to hear them this way while he took at least two of them out. But exactly that motion and sound reminded them that they were pretty much already walking among the enemy anyway, because then some of the walkers suddenly turned around and fixed their eyes on Connor, slowly walking towards him until they seemed to smell or sense Daryl underneath his cover, collectively started walking towards him instead.  
  
“Shit” the hunter said and drew his knife, walking backwards, startling when he ran right into a walker behind him. Connor, who had wanted to quickly approach his friend to help him, was stopped mid-walk and jumped right back when gunshots were fired back at him, hitting the ground only inches away from his foot. He looked up for a moment with an angry cursed “Motherfucker” and then drew his rifle again, too, to fire right back, hitting his assailant right in the head after the second try.  
  
Daryl let out a harsh grunt as he felt the walker grab him from behind and yanked at the rotten hand around his throat, instinctively bending forward and then pulling to wrestle the undead over his shoulder and throw him on the ground. More walkers were already closing in on him, but then there were more gunshots again, too, raining down on not just them but also the walkers, whose heads exploded in the crossfire.  
  
“Shit, shit shit, get down, get down!” Connor yelled and suddenly darted forward when it got too hot for him to shoot right back, dodging bullets and willingly running right into Daryl, grabbing him by his waist to almost smash him into the door behind him, through which they broke. They fell to the ground with a huff and Connor landed right on top of Daryl, breathing harshly, then for a second groaning and wincing because of the smell of walker guts that he had landed on. Before Daryl got to complain about his weight or anything else the sound of groaning undead behind them alerted the both of them.  
  
Connor widened his eyes and turned around as fast as he could, using his foot to kick the door shut while Daryl quickly got up to run for the metal cupboard that was close by, so he could shove it in front of the door. As soon as he got close enough Connor immediately helped him move the furniture, with his side still pressed to the shaking door the walkers were trying to break down.

Outside, the gunshots were getting closer and louder, like a collective wave of bullets that was rushing through the undead in front of the door to mow them down.

As soon as the cupboard was placed in front of the door both men let go and walked back, chests heaving, breathing hard.  
  
“Shit, are ye alright?” Connor asked and finally turned his head to look at Daryl, tried to take a look at his neck, but they soon had to realize that it wasn’t over yet.

“THERE THEY ARE!” someone yelled behind them and before Connor and Daryl could even really register the noise and where it was coming from they already dodged down, avoiding the bullets that immediately rained down on them by sheer milliseconds. They hid behind some metal structures and bent down as far below as the could, once again cursing and with Connor shouting an annoyed “FUCK YOU!” back at their attackers. He stuck his head out just for a second to try and get a hold of the situation, see how many they were dealing with, until Daryl grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him back down harshly to protect him from getting shot in the head.

“All right, there’s fuckin three of ‘em. Spreading out, trying ta get the fucking angle on us. You take the rifle, lay down some cover fire, I’m gonna run over there, play chicken and make it harder fer them ta surround us, pick ‘em off on the go” Connor said, talking so fast that Daryl could hardly understand him, then the rifle was already shoved to his chest while Connor dug into his boots to grab his emergency handgun.

“You ain’t gonna play freakin chicken again, leprechaun, this is…”  
  
“Yer the long distance shot guy with yer Robin Hood archery bullshit, so shut up and do as I say!” Connor snapped angrily, finger pointed at his friend and then abruptly started running, trying to stay low. Daryl cursed, quickly got the rifle ready and then stuck his head out of his cover as well, taking aim at the guy on the furthest end, shooting once and almost hitting him in the head. Connor used this moment of cover fire to start shooting as well, pulling the trigger multiple times to force the other men to get cover, giving Daryl the time he needed to properly take aim and wait for the guy to stick his head out once again.

“GET OVER HERE WOULDCHA?!” Connor shouted from somewhere to the far left, getting their attention just for a little while long enough for Daryl to pull the trigger and eliminate the first guy, using himself as bait.

Since the other two guys were already too close though he threw the rifle away the moment he knelt back down to dodge bullets, quickly exchanging it for a simpler handgun in his hands and his bowie knife in his mouth to get everything ready.

For just a moment it was suddenly very silent, too silent, as all parties seemed to try to come up with a new strategy, making the whole scenario seem like a deadly game of hide and seek. Daryl couldn’t see it or didn’t even know it, but right now, he was indirectly an enormous help to his Irish friend, whom he had taught so many things about becoming invisible, silent, deadly, on their hunting trips outside.

Back in the old days, on the farm, Connor had been far from good at this, always too noisy, a typical harsh big city guy who’d spent most of his life in towns, the big and loud city, apartments, the pub or in prison. Hardly in nature. But just a few months of spending his days and nights in the woods along with Daryl, hunting and waiting for food for hours on end and his almost freakish ability to learn fast had made him become almost better at the whole sneaking up on his prey business than Daryl, his teacher.

So here he was now, no longer making all that noise and trying to draw the attention to himself, becoming ‘invisible’ with a deadly, almost bloodthirsty look on his face, gun ready but pressed to the side of his thigh, sneaking around the large hall that was filled with tables and other furniture and stuff that seemed to make it a mixture of meat and food factory and storage. He’d become an expert at this, moving silently and almost graciously, and Daryl only caught glimpse of that for a split second, too short to really see it.

The hunter stuck his head out a little, trying to hold his breath while he scanned the place. He knew that they were running out of time. Any minute now backup could arrive for these two remaining men, since it was their territory they were on, since the shouting and gunshots inside most definitely hadn’t gone unnoticed, even with the chaos outside. Time was running out, yet time was exactly what he needed, they needed right now.

Connor had told him to lay down cover fire, to make it some sort of twisted and unnecessarily dangerous game of double bating. He needed to stay here, because if they all started sneaking around the place, nothing was safe, and they would most definitely get each other killed in the end.

He cursed once and tried to reload as silently as he could, getting extremely angry all of a sudden, at Connor, with his stupid plans and using himself as bait without any clear plan or structure, getting angry at Connor because he was so fucking worried about the guy, cared too much about him, didn’t want him to die.

The creaking of a metal door to his right startled him and made him turn his head, grabbing the gun to get ready to shoot, expecting more guys to flood in on them, make it worse. But all he heard was some running footsteps that seemed to get away, confusing the hunter.

Almost immediately following these sounds came the gunshots, aimed right at the door, then the first guy stuck his head out to call out.  
  
“Richie?! Fuck I think these guys bailed on us!”

“Are you fucking stupid, shut up are you…”

Daryl used the opportunity and the fact that he could HEAR them and where they were to have a look once more, where he could see them out in the open. He took aim at the first guy and concentrated, only a short moment away from pulling the trigger when there suddenly was a loud gashing gurgling sound, making the guy opposite the one he’d aimed at drop down to the ground. The other widened his eyes in surprise and immediately drew his gun up front, towards where the other newly killed man had been standing, and Daryl just knew that Connor was standing right there, that he had used the opportunity to sneak up on them to slash the guy’s throat with his knife from behind, for whatever reason.

Daryl immediately pulled the trigger and hit the man in the head, making him drop down before he could pull the trigger and hit Connor in front of him. But during exactly that moment Connor seemed to have pulled the trigger of his own gun, too, hitting the guy in his head from up front as well, the two bullets turning the head into an absolute bloody mess as he fell down.

Connor immediately wohooed in surprise and finally stepped out of the shadows from his kill position, stepping out to look at Daryl with a few faint blood droplets on his face.

“Did ye see that shit? Mother.fuckin. double kill. I knew the door shit’d work. I mean, it was a bit obvious and amateur, but man. How stupid was that one motherfucker to call out, I mean jay..sus” Connor cackled and then walked towards Daryl, wiping his face to get rid of the blood with a grin. Daryl got up from his own cover in the meantime, grabbing his weapons and looking both a bit confused and incredibly angry. Connor seemed oblivious to this as he continued to come closer with that careless grin.

“Knew you’d get it. We’re a great fuckin team, man” Connor said and came closer to quickly check on his friend, patting his chest.  
  
“Ye alright?”

Daryl just shrugged him off angrily and proceeded to walk past him to quickly check the rest of the room in case they had overlooked another guy.

“I already checked, there’s no one fuckin else here, Daryl. The fuck’s the matter with ye? My shit worked out great, didn’t it? Now let’s go get…”Connor started talking, seemingly a bit more irritated by the fact that Daryl hadn’t said a single thing by now and looked pissed.

“Your shit worked out great?” Daryl asked angrily and came closer to Connor again, who frowned and huffed in disbelief.

“Well we’re in fucking here aren’t we?! We’ve infiltrated te place, killed these mofos and now we can go look fer Rick and the others, So the way I see it, things have been working out like a fuckin charm so far! Now if ye get that stick outta yer ass and hurry up we might even find them in fuckin time, so would ye fuckin chill?”

“The guy nearly freakin shot you, dumbass” Daryl said and shoved Connor a bit.

The hunter knew that he was overreacting again with how protective he was of his friend, but it was well true that Connor had been dangerously careless and stupid with that unnecessary throat cut and getting so close to the enemy when he could’ve simply shot them.

He knew that with the gun shot, Connor had slashed the guy’s throat with his gun raised in his other hand, pulling the trigger the moment the other guy took notice of him, but this was exactly the problem. He had _wanted_ to wait, he had _wanted_ him to see before he got shot, and that was just twisted.

They couldn’t argue any longer about this, and they certainly would’ve argued since now Connor just looked pissed and defensive, but they never got to the arguing part because then the door suddenly creaked again, making the both of them turn around seemingly faster than lightening, guns drawn, shoulder to shoulder, ready to shoot and looking fierce like that, right next to each other, having the other’s back.

  
The sudden intruders had pretty much done the same thing, guns drawn and ready to shoot, at least until their leader lowered his gun with wide eyes.  
  
“Daryl?” Rick asked and Daryl and Connor lowered their guns, too, in shock.

Daryl widened his eyes as well, just standing there for a short moment, surprise and relief washing over him.

“Rick!” he said and, much to the surprise of the others, suddenly and actually walked forward to hug their leader, patted his back a bit harshly, relieved to see him alive after all the weeks they had spent looking for him and the others. Daryl used the position he found himself in to look up a little and gave Bob and Glenn a nod, frowning a little when he noticed another man with them he didn’t know yet, a rather buff and army looking guy with red hair.  
  
When he let go of the brotherly hug he had shared with Rick he kept his eyes fixed on the new guy, not really knowing whether he was okay and if he could be trusted.

Connor, who had just stayed back and watched the scenario for a moment, eventually really caught glimpse of their surroundings and where they actually were. He walked ahead a little with a surprised and breathy “What the fuck, man….”, as he finally recognized what the meat really was.

“Did you guys do this?” Rick asked Daryl after a short moment of looking at Connor, who was momentarily more occupied with checking out the swaying meat on the meat hooks. Rick had been pointing outside, towards the raging fire, screams and the collective moaning of walkers.

“Yeah, it was all leprechaun’s idea. We saw you guys get dragged in here.”

“Yeah, looks like ye were just about to get processed fer fucking diner…Jesus fucking Christ, are ye fer fucking real, man…not again” Connor said in utter disgust as he examined the swaying bloody and headless torso that had once belonged to a person. For a short moment, during the chase around here, the old him had almost felt at home here, because the look of these halls, the meat and the blood had reminded him of his old work place the meat packing plant, no matter how strange that sounded. But during that moment he hadn’t known about the true origin of the meat yet, and now that he did, he looked seriously disgusted and soon very angry as well.

“We don’t have much time. These people are dangerous. If you cross any of these people you kill them. Don’t hesitate. They won’t” Rick said and quickly walked over to one of the dissecting tables so he could grab knives and whatever else they had to protect themselves. Glenn and Bob did the same after they had shortly greeted Daryl, who was once again and shortly eyeing the new stranger, who had walked up to one of the windows, trying to have a look outside.

“Aye, no shit. I say we wipe out every last one of them motherfuckers. Fucking cannibals, man..I swear…I heard that one kid outside talk about how they wanted ta gut you, Michonne and Carl. D’ye know what their leader looks like? We gotta drop ‘im” Connor immediately said, getting ready, too, because now it wasn’t just a rescue mission anymore, it was fucking business.

Daryl immediately noticed what his friend was up to and already wanted to speak up, but then it was the new guy who interrupted them and walked straight up to Connor.

“No, we need all the manpower we got to make our way back to the boxcar, extract Eugene and get him away from the danger so we can get him to Washington in one piece. We’re not taking any unnecessary risks.”

Connor turned his head a little and gave the man an equally confused frown, just like Daryl had done it a minute earlier.

“Washington, huh…no offence but…who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Sergeant Abraham Ford. I’m on a mission to…”  
  
“We don’t have time for this!” Rick shouted angrily and then started walking towards the back door, knife drawn.

“We gotta double back, get the others, and get the hell out of here. When this blows over, we come back here and finish this. Now let’s go” he commanded, making Glenn and Bob follow him almost immediately. Daryl shot Connor a little look at first but then eventually followed Rick as well, just like Abraham.

Connor, who shot another final angry look at the corpses and felt his blood boil up with a surprisingly sudden and intense rage, finally followed them, too, not exactly too happy about the fact that Rick was back in charge now, that taking out cannibals and evil fuckers wasn’t their main priority after everything Rick and the others had obviously been through here in this hellish place.

* * *

  
If their entry had been chaotic, it was nothing compared to the state Terminus found itself in now. Countless walkers were swarming the place everywhere, shuffling around in the smoke, making it hard to tell enemy from friend, walker from human. The group of men was hiding behind a container and keeping an eye on the situation, trying to find a way out.

“Where are the others?” Daryl asked Rick who was closest to the edge of the container, watching the walkers with his knife in one hand.

“Right over there, locked in one of the boxcars. We gotta make our way through the alley.” the former policeman said, making Daryl curse.

“Right through the pile of walkers.”  
  
“We gotta find another way” Bob said right next to them, making Rick look at him angrily.  
  
“No, we gotta go this way. We go anywhere else we don’t know where we are.”

“We don’t have a choice, do we? There’s too many of ‘em, man” Daryl said and then it was Connor who suddenly moved, throwing his rifle over his shoulder so he could grab his knife instead.

“Just fuckin wait here, I’ll take care of that” he said, eyes already fixed on the walkers. He was on his way to walk out in the open and kill the walkers.

“You and which army?” Abraham asked behind them and kept talking. “The man is right, there is too many and we should focus on…”  
  
“Leprechaun!” Daryl hissed and suddenly grabbed Connor by his shirt to yank him back hard, almost throwing him back against the metal of the container, pressing him to it to keep him locked in place right next to Rick. Connor, who had banged his head a little on the iron wall, immediately cursed and got angry.

“Ow, fuck you! Not this fucking shit again, you know they don’t fucking attack me so I say…”  
  
“Shhhh” Daryl said angrily and kept his eyes fixed on something in the distance.  
  
Gunshots. They were coming closer again, slowly but carefully mowing the walkers down one by one. A second later they could hear instructions being shouted at people in the distance, from the rooftops, a place Connor immediately fixed his eyes on while the others kept their eyes on what was going on below.

Daryl eventually let go of his friend and Connor used this freedom to grab his rifle again, aiming it at the rooftop and the shouting from up there that was coming closer as well, and because people started shooting the walkers from up there, too.  
  
“Just wait here” Rick suddenly said and started running, towards the walkers, making Daryl whisper-shout after him. The rest of the group momentarily fixed their eyes on Rick in both surprise and horror, watched him crouch down and hide behind a broken down car by the side of the building, the corner that was closest to the walkers and people with guns that were slowly mowing the walkers down with their rifles.

“What the fuck’s he doing?!” Connor whispered angrily and Daryl kept watching Rick for a second longer, until he could see a walker slowly creep his way towards their leader’s back, Rick, who was unaware of the impending doom. Daryl then quickly grabbed Connor by his shirt once more and pressed him against the container, looking him directly in the eye.

“You stay here with the rifle and lie down some cover fire in case we need it. No walker bait stunts. Keep your eyes on the people on the roofs” he snarled and suddenly ran right after Rick, before Connor got the chance to hold him back.

The Irishman did as he was told and eventually had to fire the rifle already, because at least two or three guys were reaching the edge of the roof just above Rick and Daryl. But he still cursed and didn’t like it, found it rude how Daryl had manhandled him like that and bossed him around when –he- was usually the one in charge.

Daryl, in the meantime quickly jogged towards Rick, half crouched down as he drew his knife and approached the walker just in time to stab the back of his head before it managed to attack Rick, who was still hiding behind the car and watching someone or something in a broken rearview mirror on the floor.

Connor saw Daryl crouch down beside Rick and seemingly wait for something as well, the something that turned out to be a group of people from Terminus with heavy guns in their hands, who were shooting the walkers and moving along to clean their compound. Connor saw Daryl and Rick wait for them to walk past the car, then Rick reacted surprisingly fast, jumped a guy from behind and tackled him down, while Connor aimed the rifle at him just in case.

But Rick was incredibly fast and efficient, killing the man he had attacked silently, only to take his assault rifle and shoot the rest of them in the back, a surprise attack, which made the Irishman snort once in surprise and acknowledgement.

“Holy shit, sheriff Rick, at yer service. Thing of beauty” he muttered to himself, chuckling once until he waved his hand in the air behind himself to signal the rest of the group. He then aimed his rifle back at the rooftops.

“Alright people, go go go, move yer asses over there t’Rick, he fuckin knows where ta go, I got you covered” he commanded when he got the signal from Rick and Daryl, only to shot another man on the roof when it became necessary.

Glenn, Abraham and Bob immediately started running past Connor and the Irishman already wanted to follow them as well, firing the rifle another two times at people on the rooftops until a distant distressed shout somewhere behind him made him stop and turn around, surprised and weary.

“Help…HELP ME! PLEASE!” he could hear the muffled shout, coming from one of the containers not too far from him.

“PLEASE HELP ME!”  
  
Three walkers were clawing at the doors of that container, showing that there was someone alive in there without a doubt, someone who was obviously locked inside, and in desperate need for help. Connor pressed his lips together and looked back, where he only caught a last glimpse of Glenn running around the corner, disappearing in smoke and fire as the group seemed to be heading for the location of the rest of their people.

“HELP ME!”

 _Where are the others?_  
_Right over there, locked in one of the boxcars._  
 _Swaying meat hooks, revealing headless, limbless skinned torsos that had once belonged to human beings._  
 _That guy’s talk by the cabin, talking about bleeding people out for the sake of taking their things, the fake promise of sanctuary, Rick and the others getting dragged along like cattle, ready for dinner, tied up and made anything lesser than human._

He knew what this place was. A trap. A trap sick bastards used to get their easy prey, human flesh, cannibalism, with the meat stored in boxcars and containers just like that.

And here the poor fucker was, locked inside, shouting for help.  
When he was in a hurry, when his group was already on the run.

 _Never shall innocent blood be shed._  
**Yet the blood shall flow like a river.**  
  
_Destroy all that which is evil._  
_So that which is **good** may flourish._

 _There's still some_ _**good** _ _people 'round, 'y'know. People like us._

“PLEASE! HELP! HELP! HELP ME!”

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d truly helped someone, done something good other than killing.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck._  
  
Connor turned his head once more to look in the general direction where he had seen his friends disappear, but the guy just wouldn’t stop screaming.

Of course he couldn’t leave the poor fucker there to get eaten.

“Fuck” Connor said at the same time as he’d thought this and started running, towards the container rifle now thrown over his shoulder so he could use his handgun instead. When he got close to the container he kicked the first walker hard in his back, making him smash against the container door and then fall down to the ground, and the moment he did that, Connor already kicked his head hard, smashing it with a thick a disgusting dark splash of blood on the hot asphalt.

Connor then quickly grabbed the next walker by his disgusting shirt and smashed him into the door multiple times, crushing his skull as well and then shoving him away, only to draw his gun and shoot the rest of them in the head. The man inside was still screaming for help and only drawing more of the walkers towards their location, making Connor angry as he grabbed the old rusty lock mechanism to open the door. He yelled an angry “Shut te fuck up, I’m coming!” at the door and then opened it, only to grunt and startle in shock when the guy from inside came running right at him and tackled him to the ground, causing the both of them to fall over.

Connor groaned in disgust and surprise because along with the man came the incredibly stench of sweat, feces and god knows what else, only underlining the general look of the guy with his crazy long hair and beard. He seemed to have been locked up in there for god knows how long, having been driven insane by the captivity, for he remained right on top of Connor and started shouting “WE’RE THE SAME!” over and over again, a mixture of mad screaming and laughing as his disgusting fingers dug harshly into Connor’s shirt, then his chest and throat, clawing at him, lying heavy on top of him, no matter how skinny he was.

“Get….get the fuck OFF ME you MOTHERFUCKER!” Connor groaned and tried to fight the guy but to no avail since he was helplessly stuck and being pressed down, until it got worse and there was not just clawing, but actual hard and deep scratching with the dirty long finger nails, scratching the softer side of Connor’s lower arm, pulling his hair hard with the other hand. Connor yelped once and then successfully rammed his knee into the guy’s skinny hipbone, tackling him off of him and ready to yell at the guy for attacking him, but he couldn’t, because right then bullets were raining down on them, hitting the crazy man in his leg and then back, making Connor jump and roll and dive away from the bullets in shock and surprise.

He barely managed to dive beside the container to hide behind its open door and once again almost immediately reacted, grabbing his rifle, reloading it while half rolling around on the floor until he repositioned himself on the ground, mentally prepared himself and then almost immediately looked back outside, taking aim to shoot right back instead of running. The look on his face was dead serious and scaringly calm as he concentrated, blended everything out, got into battle mode.

He knew it was partially stupid to linger here any time longer but at the same time didn’t think of it being too stupid at all, because he figured that these guys had expected him to do just that, run away instead of shooting right back at them, up there, with no cover. But he did exactly that.

He ignored the bullet that came flying towards him and hit the door of the container with a loud CLUNK right next to his head and took aim at the guy in the middle instead, hitting his head hard and making him fly back only seconds after he’d been shot at. Even through the tiny sight of his rifle, Connor could see the look of sheer surprise and shock before the guy fell back abruptly, slumping to the ground, dead, because of a surprise attack.

For a short moment, the others to his left and right looked equally shocked, with one of them, a woman, even shouting a surprised “GARETH!”, then, in the heat of the moment, Connor took his chances and immediately fired another two shots, missing once and then hitting the other guy in his gut. The remaining woman up on the roof screamed and ran away, faster than Connor managed to reload and shoot again, which frustrated him a bit, but that quickly was forgotten when more bullets were being fired at him from another location to his right, the rooftop right next to the alley Rick and the others and disappeared in.

Connor cursed and finally ran away, being left no other choice but to run for cover inside one of the buildings since its door was closest to him. He sprinted inside and slammed it shut, once again moving furniture to block the entrance, cursing once when he finally just had to admit that he had gotten himself into big fucking trouble here, away from his group, on unknown territory.

* * *

 

“Over here!” Rick yelled and ran towards one of the boxcars that read a massive “A” on its side, grabbing the door to rip it wide open.

For the past couple of pretty frantic minutes, they had been too busy fighting walkers and dodging smoke, fire and bullets, and even now it was still incredibly dangerous because the herd just never seemed to end.

But now that they had a moment of somewhat “rest” in front of the boxcar, a moment to catch breath and actually look back, it didn’t exactly take long until it hit Daryl. He turned around and then walked back a little, pacing, first slowly and hesitantly, then more urgently as it became obvious.

“Wait…where the hell’s the leprechaun” he said, pacing around a little harder, jogging back towards the corner of the building they had just round, not paying any attention to how Rick opened the container to reveal the entire rest of his group, all the people he had last seen god knows how many months ago.  
  
Maggie, Michonne, Carl, Sasha, Beth and three other people he didn’t know, reuniting, frantically asking questions midst all this chaos, but Daryl didn’t see or hear any of it, as he quickly became panicked.

Because _Connor_ wasn’t there, not around the corner, not lagging behind or fighting walkers back there, no, the whole group was here and discussing plans in the middle of all this chaos, **_but Connor wasn’t there._**

They were talking, all oblivious and too busy to notice, until Daryl finally snapped.

“WHERE THE HELL IS CONNOR?!” he shouted, now truly giving in to the frenzy and panic. “He ain’t here Rick, we lost him, we gotta go back” he said almost immediately and walked directly towards Rick, who had been busy reuniting with his son, and who was only just now looking back as well, just like the rest of them.

But just like before the walkers put a stoke in their wheel because then they were coming, from behind the boxcar, the side of the building, seemingly everywhere, having followed them and the smell of their living flesh, walking towards the gunshots in the distance, squeezing through holes in the fences and barricades.

Michonne and Abraham were the first to start fighting, at first trying to protect the others and give them time to talk, but it quickly became obvious that they all needed to fight and move, drawing their attention away from the fact that Connor was missing.

Most of them had to start fighting, because the walkers were closing in on them more and more just like the fire and smoke. It didn’t matter how many they killed, because for each stabbed walker, there seemed to be three more coming around the corner, making an immediate need for an escape very obvious.

“There’s too many of them!” Maggie shouted only to be protected by Michonne, who was stabbing a walker behind her, then there was more and more shouting. Abraham, who yelled at a strange slightly obese guy with a mullet to not leave his side. Sasha, who was telling Beth to follow her and stay close.

Chaos was taking hold of them more and more, and although Rick did try and ran back towards the wall as well to check if Connor was somewhere back there, it was only getting worse. Because then there was suddenly another mob of walkers turning this corner as well, nearly running into Rick, making him stumble back and shout for their group to run for the fence.

Daryl darted forward to help and save their leader, stabbing two more walkers and desperately trying to catch glimpse of Connor in the crowd, but there was no sight of him anywhere, the sight that was getting worse by the minute because more and more parts of Terminus seemed to catch fire.

“We gotta double back Daryl, maybe he lost us and climbed the fence somewhere else!” Rick shouted and began to retreat as well, simply because there were so many walkers, closing in on them, their collective groaning and moaning and the dragging of their feet becoming almost deafening, ominous.

“I ain’t leavin him behind!” Daryl roared but then was already grabbed by his vest by Rick, who dragged him away from the raging herd, towards the fence where the rest of the group had found a spot they could climb over.

“We’ll regroup and come back here to go look for him, we need to leave Daryl! Come on!” Rick yelled and just kept dragging and dragging him, leaving Daryl no choice but to stumble along and follow, no matter how crazy that drove him. He didn’t want to leave his friend behind, feared madly for his life, felt that with every step that he took away from Terminus’s buildings, he was betraying him, but he knew that if he fought back now, fought Rick’s grip and fell, they’d both be lost in the crowd of walkers, would make it worse. Extremely reluctant and almost against his will, he finally ran for the fence as well, followed his group, although he would not stop looking back, hoping to find his friend in the clouds of smoke somewhere, praying to god that he hadn’t been captured or shot or worse, that he was already dead.

* * *

 

He entered the room slowly and carefully, gun drawn, slowly rounding the corners just like he had done it so many times now, trying to blend his slightly freaked out state out for the time of being, breathing steadily. He didn’t like the darkness in these halls but at the same time welcomed them, because they kept him equally hidden, made it a bit easier to move forward and get going without being seen or getting shot at.

It didn’t take long and he reached a smaller room that seemed to be some sort of storage room, a place that made him hesitate and stop for a moment, right in the middle of it. Then he eventually and slowly walked towards one of the many tables that were filled with stuff, stopping in front of a table that showed the most eerie of belongings.

Stuffed bears. Other, simple but dirty playthings.

There were all sorts of thing here, stored, like they’d been collected during a fucked up treasure hunt. An insane amount of watches. Necklaces. Ear rings. Wedding rings.

Shoes, jeans, rings, hats, pictures, even strands of hair. Blonde. Red. Black. Ponytails. Plaits.

But even with all that, the guns, the ammo he could stack up on, the faces on the bunch of pictures, his gaze always fell back on the stuffed bears. The look on his face hardened. Turned into something pale. Then angry.

For a short moment, the crazy stunt with the bullets flying at him outside had sobered him up a bit, but those feelings of rationality and his old self were quickly becoming forgotten at the sheer sight and meaning of this room. Outside, he’d admitted to himself that he needed to get back to his group.

Now, here, inside this room, in this spot that was almost quiet, the other feelings almost immediately boiled right back up.

Fucking _children_ had died in here.

Drawn in with their parents by those signs by the train tracks all around, just like them.  
This place was a fucking hell hole. A gigantic trap. To lure _innocent_ people in. Leaving only their belongings behind. Stuffed animals.

For a moment, Connor stood there, his breathing slowly becoming harder, until he slowly leaned forward a bit and grabbed the table, continuously staring at the stuffed animals on its surface. He grabbed the table harder and harder, the veins in his muscular arms becoming more and more pronounced as the skin on his hands, the tattooed finger, became paler due to the sheer pressure.

Just for a moment, Connor stood there, almost catatonic on the outside as he tried to battle the wave of emotions and thoughts for a short period of time, but in the end, he let it rush over him. The countless memories and emotions that had piled up in his head by now, that he had tried to ignore and bury to stay somewhat sane in this mess, but it wasn’t helping.

He was so _furious._

It wasn’t just anger and fury. It was pure unfiltered wrath, hatred, the most toxic and vile emotions of it all. They were showing on his face as the look on it changed into something hard and murderous.

He was starting to _hate_ humanity. Hate _god_ even. Hated everything about this fucked up world that they found themselves in these days, with all the cannibalism, rape, murder, torture and other fucked up shit he had witnessed ever since this goddamned outbreak, like it would just NEVER stop. Humanity was presenting itself from its worst side, with god _letting_ all that _shit_ happen. Yeah, he knew. Mysterious ways. But it was still fucked up.

He remembered what he’d said during the early days of the outbreak, what he’d believed.

_This is final judgment. This is where everything evil shall be punished and the earth will be purified so that in the end only those who are worth shall live on. Most of them anyway._

It was absolute bullshit. It seemed to be quite the other way round.

The memories of Woodbury falling, his captivity, the murder of Hershel, all those people getting shot up in Woodbury, those freaks by the crashed jet, everything was still fresh, made his blood boil just like ** _those stupid fucking stuffed animals right in front of him._**

He let go of the table abruptly and turned away, making the table vibrate and shake under the sudden released pressure, making the jewelry clutter and clink along with it.

Yeah, he knew that this whole place was insanely freaking dangerous. He knew that he needed to get back to his group, get out of here, come up with a proper plan the way he had used to do it back in the old days, before the turning. He knew that he wasn’t being rational with that intense anger right now, but he also knew another thing.

_He didn’t care._

About himself. About his group. About anything logical or rational.  
He only cared about one thing.  
Punishment.

Connor almost immediately calmed down again, with the look on his face changing, becoming cold, harsh, calculating. He looked down to check his handgun, reloaded it, just like the rifle on his back, then grabbed another handgun to go back to his old habits, almost calmly checking it and getting it ready.

_Everywhere, everyone thinks the same thing. Someone should go kill these motherfuckers. Kill them all._

They needed to die. _All_ of them.  
End of discussion.

He knew it. Without a doubt. Not a single fucking stuffed animal more was going to end up on this pile. In fact, there would be no freaking pile at all. Connor grabbed some more ammo and then proceeded to walk ahead, blending everything else out, even his own group outside.

* * *

 

It was almost sickening to enter this hall, to see it like that, looking almost like a church. There were candles everywhere, on the ground, by the walls, in candleholders, marking the place for what it was.

A memorial place. A graveyard.

Connor entered the room, momentarily lowering his guns a bit, looking down with an indifferent look on his face as he read all the names.

“NEVER AGAIN” the far wall opposite him read, in thick black letters. “NEVER TRUST.WE FIRST. ALWAYS.”  
  
Outside, he could still hear rattling gunshots. Screaming people, both women and men. Raging fire, walkers, the general sound of war and a falling compound. In here, it was almost peaceful. Quiet. The reminder of death and loss hanging heavy in the air. For a short moment, Connor walked slowly and read the names, but then his measuring mind seemed to drift although he knew it shouldn’t.

He knew he should feel somewhat sorry, feel the general loss of all those people who had died, thousands and millions of people around this world, because of this plague, all the chaos after the fall of civilization, this place serving as a reminder, but in this moment, he didn’t care, couldn’t bring himself to care, or feel anything at all. His mind was in planning mode. Saints mode. Killing mode. Simply because those people had lost people as well, it didn’t make it any better.  
They were still shitty fucking people. And he was out for them now, not the lost ones.

His mind did not see the candles as memorial and sign of grief and comfort. He saw them as opportunity. Opportunity to make the fire worse. To burn ‘Terminus’ to the ground and turn it into a true burning hell pit and piles of ashes. He was almost about to push one of the candleholders over when a voice startled him a bit, making him look back up and draw his gun.

“Drop your weapons and turn around” a woman spoke, behind him, making him stop in his tracks as he heard a gun click somewhere not to far away from him, slightly to his left.

“I want to see your face” she said, as he just stood there and stared. He then slowly raised one arm with the handgun in the air with a smile on his face and then dropped this gun to the ground, the other hand placed on the rifle belt, with the second handgun still there.

“Now the rifle” she instructed just like he had counted on and he did, using the weapon to keep his left hand hidden on its belt as he slowly knelt down, lowered the rifle, using the thumb of his left hand to undo the safety of the handgun that he still carried.

“You’re the one who shot Gareth” the woman said, sounding distraught and at the same time angry.

“Put the rifle down and turn around. I want to see your face” she said once again and he slowly did as he was told, getting rid of the rifle, until he turned around, positioned his gun mid twist while he turned to face her, and pulled the trigger.

She yelled in surprise and then screamed in agony, once, dropping her weapon in sheer reflex as she fell down to the ground and held the side of her stomach in pain. Connor quickly ran towards her and stepped on her hand to prevent her from getting her gun back, kicking it away with his other foot until he just hovered above her with his gun aimed at her head.

She looked at him, breathing harshly, and obviously being in pain, until she suddenly, despite all that, calmed down and looked him directly in the eye.

“The signs…they were real” she told him, never stopping to look at him. “It was a sanctuary. People came and took this place” she said, but Connor just stood and looked at her, listening, but not showing any signs that her talk was getting to his head. “And they raped…and they killed…and they _laughed_..over _weeks_.”

For just a short glimpse of a second, Connor showed a reaction. He was good at hiding all sorts of emotions other than anger and wrath in front of the enemy, and he usually never listened to their talk anyway and simply proceeded to shoot them, mid sentence, whatever, delivering justice the way he’d been told by god.

Up until now, this would’ve been just like that. Easy. No remorse. No forgiveness. Rape and killings and fucked up backstory or not. You kill, you die. Bad guy. Dead guy. Plain and simple. Especially with all the things he’d faced and thought about prior to this confrontation.

Except that this confrontation WAS different.

Because for the first time in his life, a woman was facing the muzzle of his gun. A woman and a decision that made it a bit hard for even him.

“But we got out. And we fought and we got it back. And we heard the message. You’re the butcher..or you’re the cattle” she said, staring at him. He stared right back at her, unwavering, on the outside, not showing a single emotion or reaction or anything at all. All he was giving here, was a piercing, unforgiving hard and cold stare. Thinking it through. The finger on the trigger twitching just a little bit.

 _Butcher or cattle._  
You kill or you die.  
But I'm telling ye right now, if it's our survival or some old rules and humanity, I'm gonna fuckin choose our survival. I _**will**_ _kill people and I_ _ **will**_ _let people get killed if our or our friends' lives are at stake._ _It's about survival now._

_One simple rule. No women. No children._

She suddenly laughed miserably, still holding her side as she bled from the gunshot wound.

“I saw you out there” she said, laughing once more. “You could’ve been one of us.”

She said, almost as if she had read Connor’s mind, heard him think about his own words and thought patters from not too long ago, a thought that had suddenly crossed his mind, scared him a bit. He grabbed the gun a bit tighter and pressed his lips together a little more, getting angry, fighting his own thoughts and her words a bit, trying to stay his collected self.

“You’ve killed fucking children here. I saw your stuff out there, too, you crazy bitch” he said, in the end getting extremely mad at her words, for suggesting that he could be anything like _them_. “You lure innocent people in here and take what they have and you put them in containers like fucking animals and you _eat_ them. I’m _nothing_ like you” he said, wavering just a little bit as he began to grit his teeth and tensed his finger on the trigger once more.

_No women. No children._

“It’s what we had to become. We kill to survive. And we’re still here. It’s why you’re still here. You kill to survive and you don’t just do it for that. You kill because you like it. I _saw_ you out there.”  
  
“Shut up. How many of you are left.”

“Your people left but you’re still here because you like it…you could’ve been one of us.”  
  
“HOW MANY?!” Connor yelled, finally losing it, firing a bullet at the concrete just inches away from her head, making her scream and cry out once more because it blasted her left ear drum and made her ear bleed. But then she almost immediately started laughing again.

“ _You could’ve been one of us_ ….just listen to what the world is telling you!” she said and he had enough, pulling the trigger, although it had been a short tempered reaction, to shut her up. The headshot was unforgiving and fatal just like always, but it still surprised and shocked him a bit, as he lowered the gun with a breathy “Fuck.”

He stared at her in shock, saw the blood flow from her head, flow towards him, pool on the ground, marking the passing of his first female victim.

_No women. No children.  
You’ve killed fucking children here._

The blood was still coming at him.

“Fuck” he said once more, backing off, trying to get away from it.

* * *

 

He just stood at the edge of the forest for a moment, smoking a cigarette almost miserably, watching the whole place go up in flames. It was kind of twisted to see it, like it was mocking him.

He had never made the candles fall over. Never burned their memorial place down and made it the center of the compound’s downfall. He had never walked the in- and outside to kill more people in there, to punish them for their deeds, to make sure every last one of them was put off the map just like him and Murphy had always done it whenever they had hit a bee hive of mobsters and bad people.

He had simply stopped and left the place to get back to his group, to maybe undo some of it, but in the end, everything had still taken its course. Terminus was still going up in hot and high flames, burning down to the ground as the last bunch of its inhabitants got either burned or eaten alive with the flames and walkers all over the place. In the end, he HAD still burned the place down, had killed them all in this carnage. Because he had made the tank explode, because he had cut the head of their snake off, because he had lured the walkers there. In the end, him not continuing his killing spree hadn’t made it any better or different.

For the first time in his life, he regretted it.

He still believed that those people deserved it. Cannibals. Murderers. _Child_ murderers.

But he regretted it because he was wondering more and more whether he was really turning into one of them.  
  
He _had_ stayed behind on purpose to kill more of them.

He had shot a fucking _woman_.

He couldn’t get her words out of his mind.

 _You could’ve been one of us_.  
_You could’ve been one of us_.

Over and over again. He cursed and threw the cigarette away, almost shamefully turning his back on the burning chaos as he made his way back to the cabin in the woods, the cabin where Murphy and hopefully Daryl was, two people he really, really _needed_ right now.

* * *

 

“WHERE THE FUCK IS CONNOR” Murphy almost immediately burst out, as he came running towards Daryl, started talking without pause, without reason. “A whole fuckin herd came over to the cabin and ran the place over, I told Sam ta grab Suzie and run but now I can’t find her and…where the fuck is Connor?!” Murphy shouted, right in Daryl’s face, who looked equally freaked out by now and stared at Murphy in shock.

“He ain’t back at the cabin?”

Murphy turned his head to look in the general direction of the cabin and then looked back at Daryl, then behind him, getting angry.

“Does it fucking look like it?! Where the fuck is he, WHERE THE FUCK’S MY BROTHER?!” he said and then yelled as he turned his head to look at the others, even more panic now rushing over him. “I was there only a couple of minutes ago and it was empty, which is why I’m fuckin here, I wanted ta fuckin get ye!”

“All right, that’s it. I’m going back” Daryl said and turned on his heels to run back towards Terminus with Murphy ready to follow, still a complete mess and shouting about. “Did ye seriously just fucking leave him there? What the fuck happened? Why the fuck are ye all just standing there and fucking staring, are ye…WHERE IS HE? Did they capture him, IS HE HURT?!”

“I DON’T KNOW! Just grab your shit, shut up and get the hell going, you punk! The more time we waste the more…”

“Daryl, wait!” Rick commanded angrily and made the two lookalikes stop in their tracks.

“We’re all going. We walk just a bit up this path, get some more weapons, supplies where I buried them. Then we walk along the fences. Take the rifles. Take out the rest of them, push back in to find Connor.”

“All right, then what the fuck are we waiting for?! Let’s go!” Murphy shouted, overly excited as he simply started running in the general direction Rick had pointed, although he didn’t even really know where he was supposed to go. But he was desperate to get going, to find his brother, bring him back and then get his help and the rest of the group to find Samantha and the baby, who he hadn’t been able to find either.

“I met Carol and Tyrese back at the cabin, maybe they can help us, too!”

“They’re alive?!” Sasha said almost immediately, alarmed and desperate about the news about her brother.

“With all due respect, Rick. But I’m not dicking around with this crap. We just made it out. We’re not going back.”

“The hell we gonna do” Daryl almost immediately snarled and approached Abraham like an animal, bumping into his chest.

“The place is _on fire_. And full of walkers” the woman who was with Abraham and the man who was called Eugene said, looking at Daryl and trying to get between them before it got out of hand because Daryl suddenly seemed extremely aggressive. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think your friend made it on his own.”

“You don’t know nothin about him” Daryl then proceeded to snarl at her.

“Fine, fuck you, then. I’m gonna fucking go, because the longer we fucking wait here, the harder it’s gonna fuckin be ta…” Murphy said in the meantime, once again trying to walk ahead to get going and look for his twin brother.

“You go right ahead, but we ain’t coming along. Eugene is our top priority here, and we’re not wasting our resources for a guy who’s dead anyway. We barely made it out of the place as a group, ain’t no way in a gypsy’s asshole that guy made it out of that crowd of walkers alive.”

  
“He saved your ass back there, too, you son of a bitch! So stop talking about him like he’s dead!” Daryl yelled and immediately tried to throw a punch, making Abraham stand his ground and almost immediately try to put the hunter in his place. “That’s because he fucking is you whiny fool!” Abraham said right back, poking Daryl’s week spot even more. When Murphy also tried to throw himself into the mix, equally fed up and furious about the way this guy talked about his brother, Rick, Glenn and Bob immediately tried to step between them, to stop the mess, trying to calm them down and split them up.

“Fighting isn’t going to make it any better Daryl!”  
“We should all just calm down and stop wasting time and think this through!”  
“He’S NOT FUCKIN DEAD YE PIECE OF SHIT WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!”  
“HEY!”  
“JUST STOP THIS AND GET THIS DONE WITH! DARYL!”  
“LET’S GO!”

 

“JAYYYYSUS fucking Christ” a voice rang through the chaos, making the fighting and arguing mob stop and look in the same direction. Connor had made his way up to them in the meantime, drawn towards them by the noise they made, away from his path that would have led him back towards the cabin.

“CONNOR” Murphy was the first to shout, immediately running towards his brother, running into him, tackling him into a hug. Connor huffed and then laughed a little, relaxing into the hug and then grabbing his twin to pat his back.

“The fuck’s going on? ‘M gone fer five fucking minutes and everybody loses their fuckin mind?” he teased and then chuckled once more, holding Murphy a little longer. “Are ye alright, brother? Where the fuck were ye? Could’ve used yer help back there” he muttered and then they finally let go, checking Murphy up and down.

“A fuckin herd came, shit got crazy. Connor, I lost Sam and Suzie. She ran away from ‘em back into the woods. We gotta go look fer her.”

“What?” Connor asked in surprise and then placed a hand on Murphy’s shoulder to pat and squeeze it. “It’s alright, Murph. We’ll go look for them and find her. We got te people now, don’t we. Don’t worry. ‘M sure she’s alright. She’s a tough woman that is after all.”  
  
“We should still fucken hurry.”

“Aye, well, we got detective sneaky snoopy right here, don’t we” Connor said and then finally looked up at Daryl, smirking, and then letting go of Murphy so he could greet his friend next. The grin grew wider and wider the closer he got because relief washed over him, because he was seriously happy to see Daryl right now.

“Five minutes without me and yer back ta angry redneck, aren’tche” he teased and got closer, getting ready to pull Daryl into a hug as well, cling to him for a moment even with the rest of them watching, but he didn’t care because he needed something to hold on to after the Terminus mess, but right before he got to the hug Daryl suddenly punched him _hard,_ in his face, making Connor stumble back and then even spit a bit of blood.

“FUCK!” he shouted almost immediately, holding his jaw in shock. Almost bang on the dot Murphy already came towards them, angry and protective.  
  
“HEY!”

Daryl gave Connor a death glare for a second longer, saw the surprised, angry, confused, and hurt look on his friend’s face, checked the rest of it and his entire body for harm because he had been worried _sick_ , then he approached Connor again, grabbed him by his shirt, pulled him close and then smashed their mouths together before Murphy could get close to get between them, before Connor could say anything, before he changed his mind or anything else happened.

He kissed him harshly and then desperately, becoming clingy and a bit frantic, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing loudly through his nose, because he was so furious with the guy, because he’d been so worried, because he’d feared to find him to be dead or worse, he was angry because Connor was such a cocky asshole, _always_ did this, always disappeared and got him way too close to everything he had experienced during THAT night, when he’d nearly had to shoot him in the head after that first bite.

He kissed and clawed for all it was worth and the abruptly stopped the kiss to hug Connor just as clingy and tight and desperately, holding on to him, pressing their bodies together and being so fucking _relieved_ that everything had turned out so easy, that they weren’t separated like last time again, that Connor wasn’t bloody and half dead and tortured and sick and everything else.

“Hey…man..hey hey..” Connor said and hugged back, a bit awkwardly, but equally getting into the hug, relaxing into it, enjoying it, feeling relief wash over him. “I managed…I managed..” he said and then Daryl eventually let go, looking at Connor for a moment, checking his body again and momentarily not being able to hide the emotion and relief, until he eventually calmed down, making Connor chuckle.

“Fucking princess. Need some Kleenex, crybaby?” he teased and Daryl snorted once only to eventually shove and hit Connor once more. “You asshole piece of shit” he said, part of him just really wanting to beat Connor up for making him worry that much. “You pull that prank one more time I’m gonna beat your ass into the ground” he warned and shoved once more. “You mick of a piece of shit” he snarled only to pull Connor into a quick hug again, breathing in and out into his shoulder shortly, only to let go, walk away a bit to calm down, taking a deep breath until he eventually turned around again and gave Abraham an angry stare.

Connor, who eventually and now had to face the rest of the group, looked at them and saw them all staring at them, with Abraham and the other two that belonged to him looking confused, surprised and slightly taken aback, Maggie and another new unknown woman smiling brightly, and Rick and the others looking equally surprised but somewhat reserved and/or understanding.

Connor scratched the side of his nose, unknowingly just like Murphy at the same time, who’d been doing it even before that in a really awkward way, because for him, it was equally messed up, strange and embarrassing, because now the entire group had seen that fucked up triangle thing and the fact that Connor was in this weird relationship thing with a guy who…well looked like _him_ , his own freaking twin brother.

“Well.. that was awkward” Connor breathed and gave the situation a name, as he walked forward to greet the rest of the group.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are. Just like on the show the Terminus arc is over and done with this chapter, because I'm tired of writing villain stuff like that all the time. We'll get into the immunity and Washington bits in the next chapter! Yay! (well at least I'm excited to write this, lol).


	3. Washington

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, sorry it took me so long again. I was going to post this chapter about a week ago, but then the Boondock tv series dilemma severly disappointed me and my writing muse and I just couldn't bring myself to finish this chapter because I was so upset, but here I am now.
> 
> Good news first. I also already wrote half of the next chapter so it definitely shouldn't take me so long to update next time!

“Well, now that the happy hippo band is back together again, I think we can all agree that it’s time to get our asses going so we can reach DC as soon as possible” Abraham was the first to speak up, after a moment of awkward silence from the rest of the group after Connor and Daryl’s rather surprising outing. Connor, who had used the time to approach the rest of the group to shake hands and pat backs, eventually turned his head to face the army man once more with a little frown, eyeing him head to toe just like last time they had met back at Terminus. He still didn’t quite know what to think of the man, but didn’t get to say anything because the others started talking again.

“How did it look last time you saw Terminus? Any survivors?” Rick asked Connor, simply ignoring Abraham’s constant demand for a travel to Washington D.C.

“Hey, we’re not going anywhere until we’ve found Sam and Suzie” Murphy said angrily in the meantime as he approached Abraham.

Connor smirked a little, looking directly at Rick, although a part of him only did it to hide his discomfort over the murder he’d committed when he’d come face to face with that crazy woman.

“Leader fella’s dead fer sure. Bullet t’the brain. Shot at least five ta six guys, rest of ‘em got eaten, surrounded and burned. You and the others killed some,too, maybe one or two escaped, but they’re gonna be gone fer good. The place is completely wrecked.”

“Good work. They wouldn’t have been allowed to live after what they did.”

Connor smirked even more.

“Taken right outta my mouth right there, Sheriff. Glad yer finally getting the point.”

“Oh fuck you, D.C.’s been there all year, and it’ll still be there in a couple of hours, so why don’t ye take a fuckin chill pill and shove yer Washington up yer arse?! We’re talking about a fuckin baby here!” Murphy roared in the meantime, getting into a full blown argument with Abraham. Daryl tried to step between them by now, back turned on Murphy and facing Abraham with an angry look on his face as well, trying to keep them from fighting while at the same time, trying to get into the argument as well.

“Yeah how ‘bout you start getting your ass outta here then, make your way to D.C. on your own if you’re that desperate, or what are yah, scared, uncle Sam?”

“We _need people_. The more, the better. The fate of the _entire damn human race depends on it_ , and you all wanna sit here wait for people that are nothing but a reliability anyway?”

“Hey fuck you! You fuckin asshole!” Murphy yelled and pushed Daryl away, already throwing a clumsy punch which Abraham dodged. The sergeant used the momentum to trip Murphy up and make him fall to the ground, which trigged another series of events. For one, Daryl got angrier again and tried to finish what his lookalike had started, and two, Connor approached them as well with a worried “Hey! Get the fuck off my brother and everybody just fuckin chill now, alright?!” They didn’t get to keep going because then they were interrupted yet AGAIN, only that this time, it was because of a baby crying. At first, Murphy immediately looked up and felt relief wash over him, thinking it to be Suzie and Samantha, who had made their way back to them as well. But he was greatly disappointed, because it was only Carol, Tyreese and Judith, who he had already met close to the cabin.

Carol was just standing there with little crying Judith in her arms, looking at them in surprise, until Rick and Carl immediately came running at them just like Sasha, who sobbed once and ran at her brother with happy tears in their eyes. It only took a couple of seconds and Rick suddenly started sobbing as well, as he grabbed his child and held her as close to his chest as he possibly could without crushing her, unable to believe that his precious newborn had survived the disaster. Her big brother was equally emotional, stroking the back of her head with a whispered and disbelieving “Judy” while their father greeted and thanked the latest two of their group they had reunited with.

The fight was momentarily forgotten once again when the rest of the group greeted and reunited with Judith, Carol and Tyreese, and even Daryl forgot all about Abraham, Connor and Murphy for a moment. He approached Carol instead, the one woman who had always meant something to him apart from Connor because they had shared a similar abusive past. He even allowed himself to hug her tightly as well, ask her if she was alright and where she had been, unable to hide his general happiness now. He couldn’t believe their luck, really. How unbelievably silly everything was. They had found those signs by the traintracks only a couple of days ago, made their way over to Terminus all skeptical and that with a reason, facing danger and death all around, but here they were now, having found not only one or two members of their former group, but pretty much almost all of them.

Sure, the journey here had been pretty much fucked up with all the evil sons of bitches they had encountered, but still.

Now he didn’t just have his new relationship with Connor that they were finally comfortable with. Nor did he just finally get along with Murphy and considered him a friend and family, too. No, now, he also had the rest of his family back. His friends, all the people who mattered in this fucked up world. While he hugged Carol he looked back at Connor and Murphy with a little smile, saw how Connor helped his brooding twin brother up and talked to him with a hushed voice, using their weird twin telepathy link to somewhat calm Murphy down, to keep him from screwing this up even more. Both MacManus twins were more reserved, letting the others reunite and talk to Carol and Tyreese first. Connor also used the time to eye Abraham once more, while he kept his hand placed on Murphy’s chest to keep him at bay, behind himself, to not start a fight with his short-tempered stubbornness again.

“What’s so important about mullet guy and D.C. anyway?” Connor simply asked, eyes piercing but at the same time curious, looking at Abraham who snorted a bit regarding the mullet comment.

“Eugene’s a scientist. He knows exactly what caused this mess.”

Connor and Murphy both just stared at the man for a moment, Murphy’s eyes soon wandering back and forth between Abraham and Connor, until the latter turned his head a little to look back at his twin, who was silently asking for feedback.

_Con._

_I know._

_D’ye believe him?_  
  
_I don’t know._  
  
_What if it’s true? We gotta be…_  
  
_Careful. I know. Don’t worry._  
  
_But what if he knows these guys from Augusta?_  
  
_I know._  
  
_They followed me before, all the way back t’Savannah. What if…_  
  
_Murph._  
  
Another long stare.

**_I know._ **

Connor let out a dismissive snort and looked back at Abraham and Eugene.

“Right. Go on, tell us then, what 'exactly' caused this mess?”

Most of the group had slowly stopped their happy reunion by now, interested in the conversation that was going on.

“That’s classified” Eugene, the scientist with the mullet, said from behind Abraham.

Connor huffed, Murphy snorted.

“Bullshit.”  
“Tha’s bullshit”  
  
They both said at the same time, smirking once when they did, but they wouldn’t stop glaring at Abraham, Connor looking somewhat relaxed and laid back but at the same time strangely dangerous, and Murphy looking somewhat alarmed, impatient and a bit angry. He hated scientists, doctors, military, anyone ‘official’ after all the shit that had happened to him in Boston, Augusta and Savannah.

“He'd been talking to the muckety-mucks in Washington on his satellite phone. The past couple weeks, nobody's been picking up on the other end” Abraham spoke up instead, turning his head a little to look at the rest of the group as well, who had stepped closer again and was now collectively listening to Abraham’s talk. The sergeant then looked back at Connor. “We’re already way behind schedule and lost too many people. I saw how you handled those corpses and people back there…All of you. We could use your help to get there. And that as soon as possible.”

Connor just kept looking at Abraham for a while, until he fixed his eyes on Eugene in the back, narrowing them a little bit.

“What about Augusta?”

Eugene looked at him, seemingly extremely unsure and slightly scared.

“What about it?”

Connor narrowed his eyes even more, sensing that something was off, doubting everything even more. If this strange mullet guy really was a scientist and knew oh so much about what had happened and what was going on, and if he really had been talking to people via satellite phone and such, then he should know about the operating facilities such as in Augusta.

Augusta, with Smith and all the other doctors just like the talks about San Francisco, had been one of the top leading scientists left in this country, getting so close to a cure with them. If they had been broadcasting for that long talking about a cure, the guy _should know_. And the guy most certainly should know about _them_. But yet it didn’t seem like it. Of course, for him and Murphy this was a good sign. Just like Murphy he was equally wary of scientists and doctors of all kind, and he certainly didn’t fancy another capture and the possibility of having someone open up their skulls to get to the infected parts of their brains to find some sort of cure.

But this…was seriously strange.

“Look. I’m sorry to tell you, but there is zero chance you will ever find your friend and her child again. You told us what went down. A herd of dead ones scared her away. If she’s smart, she’s not gonna come back here to avoid them. And if she isn’t, there’s a pretty high chance the baby started crying and lured them right towards them wherever she went. And even if we go looking for her, these forests are vast and dense. It would take days or even weeks to find her again and even then I tell you we won’t find her. I’m sorry, but she’s gone. Alive or dead. And right now, we’re just wasting our time. I’m sorry, but saving the world is more important than her, don’t you think?” Abraham told Murphy in the meantime, but before Murphy got to snap at him again, Rick actually spoke up.

“We’re not leaving anybody behind” he stated and walked forward to approach Abraham.

“We’re going to look for her and the child first...search for supplies on our way. Food, water, shelter for the night, maybe some vehicles.  
If you want us to help you, _you’re_ coming _with us_ ….”

* * *

 

They walked in a stretched out line through the woods that surrounded the abandoned cabin, being led by Murphy at first, then by Daryl, who tried to pick up some tracks, although it was pretty much useless. They had agreed to look for Samantha and Suzie for maybe an hour or two before they called it a day and used the time to find shelter and supplies instead, hoping to find them as soon as possible, and if not, maybe tomorrow. Daryl had a pretty hard time picking up anything useful since there were so many tracks scattered across the forest floor, scattered tracks of clumsy feet of a herd of walkers that had followed someone without a doubt. He seriously wondered if they were even going to find Samantha and most importantly, in what kind of condition. Things looked pretty grim, and he suspected there was a pretty high chance of finding her and the baby dead and eaten sooner or later, since she obviously couldn’t have run away from the herd forever, carrying a child and a weapon, without sense of direction and completely in fear.

Daryl tried to sneak a peek at Murphy to his far left, saw how much into the search the Irishman really was, and he honestly felt sorry for the poor guy. His lookalike had obviously felt a connection with the girl, the only person he’d had left from his one year of traveling without Connor back in Massachusetts. He’d helped the guy out with condoms and shit, for Christ’s sake. Helping him to get laid with her, finding him some love sweet love just to stop him from being so goddamn annoying and constantly between him and Connor, and now this, gone. Again.

Daryl let out a little sigh, figuring that sooner or later, tragically, shit like that always happened anyway. Death, murder, disappearances, gutted people.

But then again. Today had been one of their luckiest fucking days ever. They had found Rick and the rest of their group after losing them to the bloody mess back at Woodbury, looking for them for weeks on end, and them getting trapped in a cannibal camp. Now they even might have found some guy with a possible answer regarding this whole end of the world thing. _It couldn’t be so hard to find the damn girl and her child now, could it? Well. Maybe their luck had run out now._

The hunter turned his head a little when he heard a branch crack to his right, only to see that Connor had caught up with him.

“Anything?” his friend asked almost immediately, making Daryl shake his head.

“Nah, nuthin. Lamebrains destroyed her trace by staggering all over, see?” he answered, pointing at the tracks below. “Spread out more and more, kinda hard to say where she went.”

“Fuck” Connor muttered and looked back at his brother, worry obvious in his voice and the look on his face.

“Hey, at least we ain’t found her dead and munched on so far.”  
  
“Aye” the Irishman said but still didn’t look any more confident, as he kept looking at Murphy.

“He never should’ve found her in the first place” he muttered, more to himself, but it still made Daryl frown and snort.

“Why? You jealous again? Give the guy a break, he got laid and was a whole lot happier and more bearable cos of her. Obviously liked her pretty much..”

“Aye, and if she turns up dead now he’s gonna be all screwed up and depressed again cos of her.”

Daryl snorted once more and looked at Connor.

“So what, you’d rather keep the guy all to yourself forever? Never let anyone hook up cos of this mess?”

Connor let out a little sigh.

“Maybe.”

“Pff. Shouldn’t have done the same then. Leprechrama queen.”

Although he didn’t want to, Connor still had to grin.

“Well my girlfriend is Darylena Dixon, isn’t she then. So far, that one’s never gotten lost. Invincible redneck powers and all.  
Although she tends ta trip on her high heels every now and then. But they’re never perfect anyway, are they.”

“Screw yah” Daryl said with a little smirk and tried to shove Connor, who giggled a bit.

The both of them got a little discrete angry glare from Murphy on the other side, who obviously didn’t appreciate that they were joking around when they had lost someone of their group and when he was worried. They eventually stopped and just kept walking, concentrating on the search once more. Daryl knelt down to check some more tracks with a little frown, wiping away some leaves. Connor caught up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder to pat it affectionately as he knelt down beside his friend to see what he was doing.

“It’s damn useless, man” Daryl muttered as he looked around the surrounding forest floor.

“They kept following her. Or maybe they ain’t even followed her no more and chased something or someone else instead by now. Her trail’s just gone…too many walkers. They made a mess outta the tracks. And if we follow ‘em, sooner or later we’re gonna catch up to ‘em no matter what. With Judith, and the rest of the group? We’re following a damn herd right now. Ain’t exactly smart.”

Connor let out a little sigh as he rubbed his forehead. He then pressed his closed fist to his mouth and turned his head a little to stare at Murphy, who still had his eyes glued on the forest floor as well.

“Fuck, I know. Maybe he and I should just go, catch up ta them. See if they’re still following her and if we can manage ta get in front of them ta pick up her tracks before they destroy them. No need ta drag everyone inta this. Maybe ye others can look fer supplies and shelter in the meantime. Everybody looks pretty fucked up and tired.”

“Hey no, we ain’t splitting up again. We only just got the gang back together.”

Connor moved his fingers through his messy hair and nodded.

“Aye, I know. I know…” he muttered and got back up with a little frustrated grunt. “Fuckin woman. Fuckin walkers.”

“Did ye find anything?” Murphy asked as he came jogging towards them, hope glistening in his eyes because of the way Daryl was kneeling on the ground, looking at something. Both Connor and Daryl turned their heads to look back at him, until Daryl gave Connor a little side glance, waiting for him to speak up first. Connor let out a little sigh and reached out for his brother so he could stroke his arm gently, while he used his other hand to swat some mosquitos away from his face.

“No, sorry Murph. Still just the tracks from the walkers. They make it fuckin hard ta tell where she went. But don’t worry. Ye know Daryl, he’s good at that shit, he’s gonna find her fer sure.”

It was obvious that Murphy was disappointed. He turned his head a little to stare into the distance, hoping to see the herd or Sam somewhere, but they were all alone in the woods apart from them and the rest of their group.

“Hmhm” the younger MacManus just muttered and ducked his head a little as he bit his fingernails and gritted his teeth.  
He then spat the bit nail out and looked back at Daryl.

“I was just thinking, if I’m right, it kinda looks like she ran in a circle. Maybe she saw the fire back there from Terminus, tried ta make her way over there, thinking that yer there.”

Daryl got back up with a little grunt and adjusted his crossbow.

“Yeah, that’d make sense. But then again, place is crawling with lamebrains, too, man. We should talk to the group and…”

“Let’s just follow these tracks a little more, aye? I mean ye said it’s the tracks from tha herd. And they followed her, I saw them. It wasn’t –that- big when they followed her.  
Shouldn’t have been that hard fer her to outrun ‘em, right? We just gotta keep fucking looking fer a bit longer.”

“Just..just fucking relax, brother, alright? We’ll find her.”

“Let’s get going then!” Murphy said and walked ahead once more, only to look back at Daryl to get him to move as well. Connor and Daryl exchanged another look and the hunter very obviously looked somewhat annoyed, but Connor gave him a little side nod and eyeroll. Daryl sighed and started walking again to follow Murphy, to play the game a little while longer once again.

* * *

 

“We'll find her tomorrow“ Connor said, a useless attempt to somewhat soothe his sibling, who was just sitting there with his arms folded on top of his bent knees, sitting close to the fire as he stared into the dark distance. Murphy still looked disappointed and worried. He just sat there and kept to himself for a bit, until he shifted and started biting his nails again.

“Hmhm.“

“We just gotta believe in it. I found you in Savannah even with zero chance of it working out. You'n Daryl found me again even when I was fucked up, and now we even found Rick and the others again, even though I never believed in that working out. So there's a pretty high chance we'll find her, too. We still got god on our side after all.“

Murphy kept chewing on his nails until he looked at Connor eventually, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“We didn't come across a body so far. Just a couple dead walkers.“

Connor smirked a little and nodded.

“Aye! So she fought her way out just fine. She's a tough one that is, I keep telling ye. Remember how she handled those evil fucks back at te jet? And she survived before this on her own.“

Murphy let out a frustrated little sigh and looked down.

“I know, Connor. It's not that. 'm not too worried about her dying without us.“

Connor just sat beside his sibling and looked at him, trying to read him.

“Yer simply worried about not seeing her again.“

Murphy looked up and pressed his lips together, until he nodded. His twin let out a little sigh and looked ahead again, to watch the rest of their group.

“We got the others back now. Lotsa people ta keep us company. And I know that shit's changed between us and that 'm not enough fer ye anymore, but...we still got each other, right?“

“Don't be schtupid, ye'd be enough. I think ye were enough before the memory shite happened. It's just that...I wanna have what you and Daryl have. Nearly fuckin had it, actually.“

Connor turned his head a little to look at his friend who was roaming the surrounding area around their campfire to keep watch.

“Y'mean a best friend?“

Murphy nodded after a moment and Connor chuckled a bit.

“But ye got me, right?“

“Yer my fucking brother, Conn. It's not the same.“

The older sibling let out a little sigh and looked down.

“I know.“

Murphy looked at Connor for a while and then looked at Daryl again.

“She’s the only one I had left from my time without ye, my time back in Mass with Keith and the others.”

Connor pressed his lips together and shifted a bit.

“Well…it’s only been a day, aye. No need ta give up yet.”

They kept each other quiet company for a while, until the older of the two eventually chuckled.

“I wish you could remember Roc…and that he were still around ta keep us and especially you company. He was a best friend like that…ye loved him” he muttered and then chuckled even more.  
“But then again, seeing this dumb wop fighting walkers tripping all over himself…. Would’ve been one hella sight.”

“I wish I could remember him, too” Murphy mused and tried to remember, but it was pretty useless.

They fell quiet for a moment longer, then Connor got back on his feet with a little grunt while placing a hand on Murphy’s shoulder, patting it.

“Think about something else, brother. Shit will be alright.”

“Aye” Murphy said with a little tired smirk as he placed his hand on Connor’s to pat it back, watching him leave.

It was true that he was finally utterly relieved that he still had Connor after all the shit he'd been through, his only family, his twin. But when he watched him approach Daryl with that certain smile of his, saw Daryl smirk back ever so slightly and in his own typical way he did only around Connor, he couldn't help but feel that at the end of the day, it still honestly wasn't the same, that he felt a bit jealous, left out and lonely.

* * *

 

“You ever gonna tell me why the hell yah were gone back at Terminus?” Daryl asked after a while of just silently walking the perimeter, walking through the surrounding dark woods around the campfire to keep watch over their group. Connor had joined him after a while and hadn’t said much ever since they were back together, once again looking lost in thoughts and broody.

Connor let out a sigh and shrugged.

“Heard some fella scream fer help from one of the containers. Let him out, turns out he was batshit crazy and wrestled me down, then people started shooting at me, so…aye, fun times. But it’s all done with now, isn’t it. I’m back, all safe and sound.”

“Right, and it obviously ain’t been like yah suddenly felt the need to kill people again for the fun of it back there..”

Connor huffed.

“Please…not that shit again.”

There was some silence apart from the rustling of leaves below their feet, then the Irishman eventually spoke up again.

“I _might_ ’ve killed their leader and his last boy scouts but…”

Daryl snorted angrily, shaking his head.

“Hey, they was fucking shooting at me, gimme a break. Besides, they were fucking eating people. They deserved it.”

“Whatever” Daryl just growled, obviously displeased with Connor’s killing spree’s these days, but deciding not to start the same old argument again.

Connor took a deep breath and then looked away.

“I killed a woman today” he said after a moment, which made Daryl look at him in surprise.

“I didn’t have a choice. She had a gun, she wouldn’t shut up and was just as crazy as the others. She…tried ta justify what they had done and believed that it was right…back there, I saw kids toys and all sortsa personal items stored. I think they killed and ate dozens of people…Men, women, kids..” he said, shaking his head with an angry frown. “Just cos the world ended, people seriously go through the roof of crazytown, don’t they?”he muttered and then looked ahead again.

“Still. ‘m not proud of what I did. We always had that code and I…she just kept telling me that I could have been one of them, te way I killed her people. And that made me _so_ angry that I actually pulled the trigger. Didn’t think fer a sec and then…boom” he said, shaking his head once again and nervously checking his clothes for any cigarettes, but he couldn’t find any. The he just breathed out and closed his eyes for a second. “It felt like she hit a fuckin nerve, man” he admitted and then rubbed his face.

“And what you said a couple of days ago about all that killing and going brutal and psycho and that not being me..it’s kinda right. Shooting women, that ain’t fucking me. I dunno. Maybe she was right.”

“You were alone back there. They were crazy…you obviously, too” Daryl muttered which made Connor snort, but the hunter then grabbed him by his arm and made him stop.

“Hey…yah beatin yourself up over it. And if it makes yah worry and angry t’be compared t’those Hannibal Lecters…just shows that yah ain’t like ‘em at all. They didn’t care, did they.”

“Aye, I know.”

Daryl eventually smirked a bit shyly, shifting on his feet.

“Why’d you think I ain’t letting yah stupid leprechaun outta sight, though. Talking ‘bout going through the roof of crazytown…you ain’t that different on yah own.”

Connor snorted once more.

“Bullshit, I’m better on me own. Killed a lot more walkers and gangsters than all yer people combined while you was gone. Suck it up. I win that countdown. Pussy.”

Daryl huffed as well and then started walking once more.

“I ain’t the one taking it up the ass afterwards.”

“You motherfucker” Connor said and tried to throw a branch at his friend, who chuckled.

“At least I’m fuckin someone” he went on and Connor properly laughed as he tried to catch up with him.

“Who are ye and what have ye done ta Virgin Islands” he said and turned his head to look back, check if they were far enough from the group to be relatively out of sight. Then he eventually grabbed Daryl by his arm next and pulled a little bit.

“Hey, wait the fuck up” he demanded and then pulled him in to kiss him a bit aggressively and rather suddenly, because all that beating around the bush wasn’t exactly helping. It took a moment of struggling and fighting for dominance but eventually Daryl gave in, suddenly kissing back almost frantically, thinking it to be the move. But the moment he placed a hand on Connor’s chest and clumsily let it travel lower, the Irishman pulled away again, much to his annoyance.

“Not fuckin now, alright. I just…” Connor said and rubbed his mouth, taking a deep breath because he was equally heated up, although that was nothing compared to Daryl. It had been a couple of days since their latest intimate adventure, and especially now that they were around the others again and there was a certain amount of thrill and danger connected to it, it wasn’t exactly any easier. And to make it worse, Connor’s sudden reluctance and constant withdrawing just because of the others was driving him insane. Connor was constantly looking back at the group.

Daryl huffed a little and shook his head to keep going again.

“Yeah. I get it.”

“Come on, don’t give me that crap” Connor said with a frustrated little sigh and followed Daryl.

“I’m just surprised ye actually did that shit in front of the others earlier, without talking it through first. I didn’t exactly want ‘em ta know, actually. Y’know that, right?” Connor went on after a minute, which made Daryl stop for a moment, looking offended. He let out a huff and shook his head as he started walking again, a little faster this time, looking down.

“Why, cos it ain’t like people like yah t’screw around with dirty illiterate hillbillies? Told yah, I get it”he muttered and kept walking to hide the fact that these words cut deep.

On the one hand he’d never exactly wanted the others to find out either, view him as some sissy fag the way his family had always called and mocked him. On the other hand, he’d also thought that the shit with Connor was real and had some sort of meaning, although exactly that meaning was being devaluated by the fact that Connor wanted to hide it because he considered it “embarrassing” in front of the others. He knew what Connor’s problem was with it, what their problem was with it. That it wasn’t even about him but more the male-male part in general, but a big portion of Daryl’s mind just couldn’t stop shouting at him, telling him that Connor was only embarrassed because it was with HIM, the stupid redneck, the practical virgin, the loser.

“Don’t talk bullshit like that, y’know what I fuckin mean. We’ve talked about that shit more than once.”

Daryl just kept walking and wouldn’t say anything.

“We talked about it back on the fucking tracks and I told ye I’m fine with it just not in front of the others because it is what it is…fucking questionable.”

Once again, no answer, which made Connor feel a bit bad.

“Closet fucking gay, remember” he eventually said, which made Daryl smirk a tiny bit although he didn’t want to.

“So what, now you _do_ admit to it?”

“I mean you, actually. Gotta stick ta the angry closet gay redneck façade. Just trying ta remind ye, fella.”

“Screw yah.”

“Fuck ye.”

“Fuck _you_.”

Connor smirked, Daryl grinned, in private of course. But he still kept walking, wouldn’t let Connor off the hook because despite the joke, he was still an asshole.

“How come you are suddenly okay with that shit. Ye spent a year beating the crap outta me ta hide yer fucking crush on me.”

“Nope. That wasn’t a crush. That was just me clogging yah in the face cos you’re an annoying asshole.”

“Aye, you keep telling yerself that, Darylena.”

Daryl just gave him the finger, and Connor let out a little sigh.

“What’s it matter. Now they pretty much know anyway, don’t they.”

Daryl snorted.

“They knew that shit about you the moment they saw yah and heard you insist on sleepin in that tent with me. I sure as hell did get the vibe right from the off, _Conny_.”

Connor snickered dirtily in the back.

“Oh, didcha.”

“Yup.”

“Right, guess that’s why ye let me in ta join yer little club, then.”

Daryl turned around and started walking backwards, giving Connor a sympathetic “Fuck you” with squinted, yet playful eyes.

“Oh yeah?” Connor answered, grinning.

“Yeah… _asshole_ ” Daryl went on, still walking backwards, but slowing down so his friend could catch up to him. They both knew that it was no longer an argument or about who could insult the other more, it was turning more and more into their fucked up version of foreplay. They knew it was fucked up, but they both couldn't help but like it. When Connor was just about to close the distance between them with a smirk Daryl simply stopped walking and looked past him, back towards the camp, with an indifferent almost predator like look on his face.

“Oh look, yah ain’t far enough t’hide yah pathetic faggoty secret from ‘em.”

“Oh look, people might see that the angry closet gay redneck stereotype is actually true with ye” Connor countered with that same grin and Daryl considered kicking or punching him for that remark, but instead, he simply stood his ground and let Connor come closer, staring at his mouth, let him close the distance between them and kiss him slowly and almost superficially, once, then twice, then, they almost immediately became more aggressive and heated again, the moment Daryl gave in again and kissed back.

Connor suddenly chucked because it somehow was way too exciting, which made Daryl roll his eyes a bit and made him mutter “I hate you” in his mouth, but he didn’t exactly complain. Right now, he was far more happy and excited about the fact that Connor was giving in in the end and that it was finally coming down to this again after days, even with the group around.

He was already mentally preparing himself for what was up, getting ridiculously excited by the tension, slight danger and the darkness of the surrounding forest and the rustling of leaves beneath his feet. He just couldn't help it, how he always got aroused and hard awfully fast whenever Connor did this, _especially_ in an environment like this, being his usual straight to the point and rough self as he worked his belt and fly open. He was ridiculously glad and happy that things were working out, that Connor was right here after today’s cannibal disaster and everything, but then his day took yet another downturn because Connor suddenly _wasn’t_ there anymore. Instead, he abruptly interrupted the kissing and foreplay to move away from Daryl and look into the far distance, leaving him hanging and completely confused.

“Come on man, what the fuck” he said angrily, but Connor didn’t even look at him.

“Hold the fuck up..” Connor said instead, still staring into the distance. Daryl quickly zipped himself back up and then finally turned around to check what his friend was looking at, beyond furious because of the sudden interruption.

“Cut it out, if yah that scared of people finding…” but he trailed off.

Because then he could see it, too. Red tail lights, not too far away from them, coming from a car that was obviously driving down a road at a slow speed, like someone was looking for something, pretty close to their camp.

“The fuck is that?” Connor said and frowned, only to suddenly started running, towards the car, making Daryl follow him with a little curse.

The car was slow but they still hardly managed to catch up with it, reaching the street only to catch glimpse of the vehicle’s rear in the far distance.  
The only thing they could make out was that it was an old model, and had a white cross taped on its rear window.

“What the…” Connor muttered with a frown, turning around to check the other end of the street.

“You think they were fucking watching te group by the fire?” the Irishman said and then turned his head to the side where they had come from, checking if their camp could be seen from up here. Unfortunately, that was the case. The surrounding woods and their previous "almost making out" location was impossible to spot in all the darkness, but the campfire was clearly visible, just like the people surrounding it. Rick, Maggie, Abraham and the others.

“I don’t know…went a bit too slow to be just passing by” Daryl noted and looked in the same direction, only to look back down the street.

Connor nodded and pointed in the direction the car had driven off.

“How much do ye wanna bet that they had some shit ta do with Sam and Suzie just fuckin vanishing without leaving us a fuckin sign.”

“I don’t know, man” Daryl said with a little worried frown. Connor wiped his mouth and looked back once more.

“Ye think ye could track where they went?”

Daryl knelt down a bit and looked at the street. He could see a faint trail where the car tires had cut through the dirt, leaves and trash, but it wasn’t easy.

“Ain’t no use in the dark, could try by sunrise…” he muttered and then got back up. “All right, let’s get back to the others, we should tell 'em.”

* * *

 

“We spent all damn day looking for that girl without a single clue, or definite sense of direction, and now you’re telling me you want to chase a car that will be miles away by the time we get going? I’ve given you the time you wanted to find your friend, but I’m sorry, that’s just chickenshit served on a plate made of bullshit. We’ve got no clue where the car went, if there was a car at all, and redneck Sherlock Hood over there sure ain’t done a farts worth good of tracking today, so I’m calling this off. We’ve got a clear destination, a clear mission, a clear…”

“…fucking sense of bullshittery” Murphy said angrily, interrupting Abraham midsentence. Daryl, who had watched the scenario with arms folded and a small “are you shitting me, jackass” disbelieving smirk on his face, nodded and spoke up as well, being completely on his lookalike’s side.

“So far, at least we got more proof and reason to check the car out than your geek squad got going with all y’all D.C. mumbo jumbo. For all we know, scientist talk could be chickenshit served on a plate made of bullshit.”

Although Connor tried to stay diplomatic and reasonable, he still had to snort at that remark.

“Whether you believe it or not, it is what it is” Eugene said, once again being incredibly vague and plain weird about it, which made Connor frown.

“Why won’t you just tell us then?” Sasha asked, and when Connor looked around, he noticed that the others were equally wary and disbelieving. Abraham stepped forward and placed himself in front of Eugene with a warning “You leave him be.” Sasha then looked at Rick to somewhat signalize him that maybe he should finally make them talk. Rick looked back at her and then down to the ground, fumbling with his watch, until he stepped forward.

“What’s the cure, Eugene?” he asked, but his question was met with momentary silence.

“If you want us to come with you, help you find a cure, you’ve gotta give us a little more information than your simple word that you know. If you know, we know. If you want us to be part of this, be part of us, you share with us. Everything.”

Eugene shook his head a little, stepping back some more.

“You don’t have clearance and I already informed you that the information is classified and highly sensitive…”

“What if you die, huh?” Rick asked, coming closer with a frown. “Who will know how to stop this if you won’t tell anyone because of obligations and rules that were made before this world? Who will pass it on if something happens to you?”

“Is that a threat?” Abraham asked, stepping between them, coming right up to Rick’s face. Rick looked up to him for a moment, tilting his head a little, making everybody around them tense.  
But before another word could be said, somebody else already spoke up.

“Just tell them, Eugene” Rosita, the woman who was with Abraham, said with an annoyed little eyeroll.  
  
Eugene looked at Abraham, who on the other hand looked back at Rosita with a little frown.  
Rosita gave him an annoyed look and then a slight nod, which made him growl a bit and roll his eyes as well.

“We need them” she said, which made Abraham give in.

“Go ahead.”

Eugene obviously looked like he felt extremely uncomfortable and pressed his lips together, until he eventually started talking.

“Even if I told you all, even if I provided step by step instructions complete with illustrations and a well composed FAQ and I went red ring, a cure would still die with me” he said, which made Connor, Daryl and Murphy frown. Rick, Carol and a few others turned their heads after a moment, too, to look at the MacManus twins at that remark, which made the both of them feel slightly uncomfortable.

“I’m not gonna let that happen” Abraham said, once again looking directly into Rick’s eyes. Rick just looked back at him for a moment, then he looked back at Eugene.

“Just humor us” Connor suddenly said then, before Rick could. “Just try us. We’re nat as stupid as ye might think. How’s the cure work?”

He didn’t just ask because he was curious. He also didn’t just ask to test whether the guy actually knew shit about the disease or virus or whatever it was, if he had the same info he and Murphy had ever since their visit to Augusta. A part of him, if Eugene and the info were legit, seriously wanted to know if there was a way to find a cure that didn’t involve him or Murphy dying during brain surgery to get to the core of their immunity.

Eugene finally fixed his eyes on Connor and started talking after a moment.

“I was part of a ten person team at the Human Genome project of weaponized diseases to fight weaponized diseases. Pathogenic micro-organisms with pathogenic micro-organisms. Fire with fire. Interdepartmental, drinks were had, relationships made, information shared. I am keenly aware of all the details behind fail-safe delivery systems, to kill every living person on this planet. I believe with a little tweaking on the terminals in DC, we can flip the script. Take out every last dead one of them. Fire with fire. ”

For a moment, they all just stood and stared, a bit overwhelmed by the sudden flow of information. Then, Connor went back to frowning.

“Ye wanna inject people with a deadly disease cocktail ta fight a deadly disease” he broke it down, plain and simple, a bit dumbfounded.

Although the talk had sounded typically scientific and doctor-ish, he still didn’t trust the fucking guy. It was too anticlimatic for his liking.

“Simply said: yes.”

“So…what’s that gonna do to people?” Glenn asked, making Eugene look at him.

“It will make the dead die and the living will have this earth again, friend” Abraham said and then looked at the rest of the group.

“And this is exactly why we all need to go to Washington.”

“I’m not going anywhere until we’ve found Sam and te kid” Murphy said almost immediately, from behind them, which made the most of them look at him. Rick eventually looked at Connor, who stared back at him.

“We saw tee fuckin car. We know which direction it went. We saw that her tracks led up to that road. And we haven’t checked te cabin and the train tracks and Terminus one more time" he simply said.

“Come on, even if she was in that car or went back to this hell hole, she’s either barbequed and served with salsa, or she’s miles away.”

Rick turned his head to look at the rest of the group, pressing his lips together, until his eyes lingered on Eugene and then the MacManus twins once more.

“We’ll check the cabin and the outer perimeter of Terminus tomorrow just to make sure. Take them out of any of them were left over from today. If we can’t find her and the baby there, we’ll try to follow the car tracks for a bit, try to find out who was spying on us. If they’re friendlies, we’ll find out what they saw and where they got the car and gas from. If they’re hostile, we’ll have ourselves that car.”

“You can’t be serious!” Abraham said angrily, but Rick just turned his head to look at him.

“Trust me, if it’s true and you want that cure of yours, you’ll need them with you.”

Connor visibly tensed in the background and stared at Rick’s back, then at Abraham and his small part of the group, really not liking this at all.  
He waited a bit until most of them settled, talked to Murphy and Daryl for a moment to kill time, but eventually, he made his way over to Rick, who was now on watch.

“Eh Rick, got a sec?” he greeted him, and then turned his head to check if the others were listening. He animated their leader to walk a little longer and then finally spoke up.

“I don’t trust these two guys. Or at least the mullet guy. Big ol uncle Sam just seems ta be yer typical dumb military guy following missions and orders..”

“I know. I don’t trust anyone these days anyway.”

“Good…good” the Irishman said and looked back once more.

“There’s something that’s just off about that cure story. The way he avoids details? He clearly doesn’t know shit about me and Murph, and I’d rather keep it that way, actually.”

Rick slowed down a bit and looked at Connor, now seemingly interested. Connor let out a little sigh and moved his fingers through his hair.

“Listen, Daryl and I haven’t been completely honest with ye when we came back fram our trip to Augusta” he eventually admitted, which made Rick stop walking.  
  
Connor felt a bit uncomfortable because he had kept that lie up for so long, but he figured he owed his group now, especially since the information was important.

“We actually _did_ find a lab back there. They had Murphy fer a couple of weeks, ran test on him until he fled, then, when Daryl and I got there, they ran tests on me, too. There was a doctor, like, a _proper_ fucking scientist without a mullet, who had a couple of long talks with me regarding the immunity thing. I –know- how this virus or whatever it is works. What’s going on with me and Murph. Well, at least ta some extent. And I’m telling ye, the stuff mullet guy said…doesn’t exactly add up.”

Rick just stared at Connor, eyed him head to toe, letting his eyes linger on his shoulder where he knew one of the two bitemarks was hidden underneath the fabric.

“Did they actually _find_ something in Augusta when you were there? A cure? Military?”

“Military, and labs, aye. But a cure? Not yet. They were going ta operate on Murph and me. It would’ve required brain surgery. It would’ve killed us if we hadn’t ran. They got fucked up. Tried ta keep him against his will first, then me. They followed him all the way ta Savannah. Then they chased me and Daryl trying ta get me back. They had broadcasts running across half the country talking about that facility. ‘s why Murph came all the way down here from Massachusetts. So if the guy really were a scientist and knew a cure in D.C., then he should know about that broadcast, about Augusta and me and Murph, and that case in San Francisco. But when I asked him about Augusta, he didn’t know jackshit.”

Rick stared at Connor a little longer, an unreadable expression on his face.

“What about those people in Augusta now? Are they still there?”

Connor shrugged.

“Fuck if I know, maybe they’re still looking for us or committed mass suicide after losing us and their only hope. Honestly don’t wanna fucking know. But…even if it’s true, if the guy simply doesn’t know but is legit…I’m not sure if Murph and I can come with ye. If ye tell another scientist and cure research person about us, it’d be our fuckin death sentence. They made it clear that research and surgery on us'll most likely kill us because of the pathogen's location in our brains.”

Rick shifted a little, looking down.

“You do realize we’re talking about an actual _solution_ here, though, right? A cure and..”  
  
“Do you think I don’t fuckin know that? But I’m telling ye. I’ve already lost my brother once because of this stupid fucking thing. I’m not gonna lose him again” he said and then stared in Rick's eyes.

“All I’m telling ye is ta be discrete about us. Take some time ta figure this out, see if he’s legit. We’ve got enough information ta test the waters. I got my info from Augusta, you, Daryl and the rest got yers from yer trip to the CDC. If he’s the real deal, yer still gonna get yer cure fer yer kids even without me and Murph. If he’s lying, we got three scumbags less ta know about us.”

 


	4. Priest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo. Sorry it took me so long to update again. Shitty writer's block and lots of real life stuff going on.  
> This chapter is pretty conversation heavy and maybe a bit boring, but it all needed to be said and done to get the story moving forward. 70% sure there will be Connaryl action in the next chapter, and if not, 100% sure it will be in the chapter after that.
> 
> Just wanted to focus more on Connor's changed characterization and the built up for future stuff that's gonna happen ;)

They went back to searching for supplies and the car, but most importantly for Samantha and her daughter, much to Abraham's very vocal disapproval. Slowly and carefully the sergeant and his small group weren't the only ones having doubts, though, the rest of Connor, Daryl and Murphy's group were slowly showing signs, too. Not that they were too obvious, but Daryl could see them. The gradual lack of interest from the couples who were talking and chatting and getting caught up in their own business more and more, Beth and Tyreese's slightly troubled faces whenever they looked at baby Judith in the heat and out in the open like that along with her young brother. Or even Carol and Rick who were strangely different even since they had found the group again. They didn't even seem to pay too much attention. They seemed moody, hardened, and lost in their own thinking world, entirely quiet.

Daryl turned his head and looked at Connor next to him, smiling a discrete but affectionate smile because the sight of his friend still made him happy and comfortable. He wanted to slap himself for a moment, realizing that he could partially count himself to the couple part of their group now, being more occupied with giving the guy hearteyes and freaking out over him because he freaking loved him. Instead of focusing on the job. He even let out a frustated little sigh and shook his head, _mentally_ slapping himself and telling himself to get his shit back together.

Not like any of it mattered anyway, especially to Connor, because he was oblivious to his stare and not even remotely paying attention either. Connor had his sharp hawkeyes fixed on Abraham and most of all Eugene, watching their every step and looking almost like he was stubbornly trying to read their minds, to read them and know their every secret.

Daryl looked at them, too and then straight ahead, cursing himself because now...well he technically wasn't paying attention to the actual search himself, although he knew he was pretty much the most important one and most useful one for it.

He finally fixed his eyes on Murphy and pressed his lips together a bit. His doppelganger really looked like shit today. He looked like he hadn't slept at all, and the worry, anger and a hint of sadness was obvious in his face. The ugly deep scar on his head didn't exactly help either, it just added up to his whole misery.

_Poor fucker._

That was all Daryl could think. For a short moment he once again wondered when exactly he had started caring about Murphy, too, and it did freak him out a little how much he had changed since last year and how many people he cared about now. Sure, everyone was a poor fucker these days, everyone had lost people and gone through shit. Loads of shit, himself included. But that didn't make Murphy's current misery any less valuable.

He mattered to Connor. Connor cared about him. And Murphy had stood up for him, too, tried to keep him from harm when those claimers had attacked. That was reason enough to care, to consider him family, too. It was reason enough to make Daryl want to stop his misery a little more. He was just about to talk to Connor about Murphy when their search suddenly got interrupted. Because then they heard the distant screams for help, coming from somewhere to their left.At first, and exactly like before, Murphy thought that this was Samantha, finally, calling for help. He immediatly looked up and started running even when Connor yelled out for him to slow down. But it didn't matter and Murphy kept running, so ultimately, Connor started running, too, after his twin, followed by Daryl and then rest of the group.

The closer they got the more obvious it became that it couldn’t possibly be Samantha and the child.

Instead, there was the voice of a desperate man calling for help somewhere, a situation that made Connor wary once again. He almost immediately grabbed his weapons just like the rest of their group, as they quickly approached the location, still following Murphy.

Maybe the man was with Samantha and calling for help because she was injured, Murphy surely thought, but Connor doubted it . Although he tried not to be pessimistic for Murphy's sake, Connor still thought the darkest things. Like of this being a trap to lure them in for robbery and murder. They’d gone through that so many times after all, Connor thought as he raised his gun a little, the look on his face back to almost murderous and hardened once again. He was fed up with it, how Murphy was straight out running at the danger AGAIN, even after the exact same scenario had already happened when they had found Samantha. He let out a frustrated little growl, thinking of it as kind of fitting if they found her dead now, exactly like this, no matter how mean and unfair the thought was.

Deep down he knew that Murphy wasn’t exactly dumbly running at some danger. He could see that his twin had his knife ready just in case. But he still looked somewhat hopeful, which pissed his older sibling off a bit, simply because he didn’t want Murphy to be disappointed or upset. Despite that and in the end, Connor was just happy to see that he was not the only wary and pessimistic person. The entire group was following with equally worried and hardened looks on their faces.

The find, however, was fairly disappointing to the most of them anyway, especially Connor, who was really surprised by the somewhat anticlimatic find.

The moment they reached the location they could make out a panicked African American man on top of a large rock, kicking and shouting for help in his desperate plight. Six walkers were surrounding the rock he was hovering on, trying to grasp him by his legs. The most surprising sight of all were his clothes though, because he was wearing clerical clothing.

A priest. Trapped in the middle of nowhere.  
Connor couldn’t help but stare at the man.

Not in a million years had he expected to see something like this ever again, a figure and participant of a religion he had once trusted and loved. He thought it was grotesque how finding a trap, thief and murderer would have been easier and more relaxing for him to find, because it was the most logical thing these days, the encounter they usually had in this fucked up world. Thiefs and murderers were more reliable and understandable, easy to get. Simply cecause they always knew what they wanted, what the group was up against and could expect.

But not with a priest. Not anymore.

He had once viewed priests and religioud figures of authority the most trustworthy. He really wanted to still believe and trust, but just for a moment, the find was still too surprising. And he certainly didn’t know if he could trust the man. Rick and Michonne were the first to kill the walkers, followed by Murphy and Daryl who bashed the walkers’ heads in with the other end of their weapons.

“We’re clear, keep watch” Rick instructed as he had a quick look around and then walked around the rock just to make sure there weren’t any walkers or unwanted visitors.

For just a moment, Connor let them do the talking and being in charge and kept in the back to use his time to curiously study the priest instead.

The man was still sitting on the rock, knees pulled up to his chest, shaking, obviously frightened to the core. He was pale with fear and sweating profoundly, and the trembling wouldn't stop even now. He honestly didn't look dangerous. Or like a thief. Or murderer. If he was one of those, he sure put up one hell of an act, Connor thought and eventually smirked a little, only to turn his head to scan their surroundings.

“A woman, did ye see a woman with red hair and a baby?” Murphy asked almost immediately, looking up at the priest with wide eyes. The priest was obviously unable to answer at first, because he just kept staring at them with wide eyes and shaking body until Rick ordered him to come down.

Murphy, in the meantime, and when he didn’t seem to get an answer quick enough, simply started walking again and searched the greater area around the rock to look for the missing members of their group.

The priest managed to climb down and eventually, Connor was the first to walk up to him and try to help him, still way too surprised to actually see someone religious after such a long time. He was slowly starting to believe him.

No. Actually, he _didn’t_ trust or believe him. He actually _wanted_ and _needed_ to believe him. Because after the fuck up and thing with the murdered woman yesterday, he wanted and needed to make amends, get himself back on track. No matter how hard the trusting was, or how much he wanted the priest just to be another bad guy just so he could kill him. And this was exactly the point. He needed to fight the urge, so he forced himself to keep up an act of his own, until he believed it, until he believed this priest and his old religious instincts.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked but at the same time still ended up being wary of the man, scanning his clothes and body a little closer, looking for anything suspicious. The priest looked at him for a moment, obviously took note of Connor’s rosary and tattoos as well, but before he got to speak to him, he suddenly turned to the side and threw up all over a walker.

Connor pulled a face just like the rest of the group, turning his head a little so he didn’t have to look at it. He didn’t exactly fancy throwing up as well when he hadn’t eaten much anyway. He looked at Daryl instead, who was awkwardly scratching the back of his head and then gave Connor a knowing and mocking look.

_Religious freaks._

The look said.

 _Har Har._  
  
Connor’s stare came as a reply, equally judging Daryl regarding his lack of faith and constant mocking of religious topics. But then eventually he smirked and chuckled a little. Daryl gave him a tiny smirk back that only Connor could really see or read.

“Sorry” the priest said when he finally managed to get back up, looking at the rest of the group. “It's just that I'm not used to such carnage.“

“Have you got any weapons on you?” Rick asked, while Connor turned his head a little so he could whistle and instruct his twin to come back. Murphy turned his head to look at him, and when Connor pointed and nodded towards the priest, Murphy made his way back, knowing that he should try again.

“Do I look like I would have any weapons?” the priest asked, nervously looking around. Even now he was still shaking. “I'm...I'm.. my name is Gabriel. I...“

“Is this guy for real?” Daryl muttered in the meantime, leaning in closer to Connor.

“Y’mean the priest thing? Well, attire’s pretty fuckin accurate, aye. But I'm not 100 per cent sure yet.“

“Yeah me neither...the whole 'Gabriel' thing. Next thing we know he grows a pair of fluffy wings and sings Ave Maria or some crap.“

Although he didn't want to, Connor ended up snorting with a small grin.

“I have no weapons of any kind“ Gabriel explained nervously when he felt all the wary and skeptical looks he was given.

Daryl snorted as well and got closer to Connor.

“Well Hallelujah. Guess he ain’t gonna join your gun wielding biblebanging psycho club then” he retorted with a little hard nudge to Connor’s back. Connor just huffed a little and eyed the priest once more.

“Shut it” he simply said and kept watching and listening, trying to make something out of the guy.

“The word of god is the only protection I need“ Gabriel added and looked at Connor at this remark, who eventually gave him a tiny smile and nod.

Daryl simply huffed once more, looking away.

“Jesus, here we go again…” he muttered more to himself, then looked straight in the priest’s eyes.

“Sure didn’t look like it.”

Connor shifted his weight back so he could step on Daryl’s foot to shut him up.

“I called for help. Help came” the priest said with a nervous smirk and chuckle, as he first looked at Daryl, then Connor, then the rest of the group.

“What about the woman, did you see a woman pass by? Red hair, about this high, little kid, green shirt? Buncha walkers chased her” Murphy spoke up and walked up to the priest once more, hope showing in his voice. However, the priest only swallowed and shook his head.

“No. It was just me and them…until you came.”

There was a long, awkward pause, as everyone just stared and Murphy retreated with a displeased little grunt. He turned around instead to start searching again while the others were busy. After maybe a minute of silence it was eventually Connor who spoke up once more, feeling like he should, since he was a fellow religious man, although he had been way more religious back in the day, and continued to have doubts even now.

“We saw a black old car yesterday. With a cross taped to its rear window. Was that you? Do ye have anything ta do with it?“ he asked curiously, looking at the priest once more with sharp, attentive eyes. Daryl folded his arms and eventually looked at the priest, too, curious as well.

“No...no. I don't have a car. If I had, do you think I'd be stuck here in the woods? Where...where did you see it? Do you have a camp?“ Gabriel asked, still nervous and sweaty. Rick shifted a tiny bit and tilted his head. Connor, in the meantime, bit his lips and frowned a little since it was really hard to get the priest. Mirurphy was nervously pacing aroinund in the background and it became obvious that he was getting more and more impatient, panicked and angry since it was now obvious that Gabriel had no clue about anything.

“No. Do you?“ Rick answered and stepped forward. Gabriel moved back a little, once again shaking a bit. It was obvious that he felt very intimidated by the group. For a moment he stayed silent and scanned their faces, until he fixed his eyes on baby Judith in the back and swallowed a little.

“I have a church.“

Connor raised his eyebrows a bit. Daryl snorted in disbelief and then shook his head. Rick rolled his eyes angrily and got closer to Gabriel so he could start searching him.

“Hold your hands above your head“ he ordered and started feeling his pants and pockets while Gabriel obeyed. Connor watched it unfold and grew more and more uncomfortable with the whole scenario. He was actually very pleasently surprised by these thoughts and emotions because this was his old self coming back at the sight of it, the sight of a priest and religious person being manhandled like that. A small part of his new much darker survivalist self was still wary and thought it to be the right measures to make sure the guy was no enemy. But the other righteous and religious portion of him was also getting bigger by the minute.  
  
“How many walkers have you killed?“ Rick asked, still checking for weapons.

“Not any, actually“ Gabriel answered after a short moment.

Rick huffed and forced the priest to turn around with a disbelieving “Yeah, right“ as he started to search the back of his shirt and pants.

Connor turned his head a little to look back at the set of rocks the priest had sat on, terrified and screaming for help. He then observed all the dead walkers on the ground. All of them killed by their group. Connor then pondered on his own kill count of undead slaying for a short moment. A number he had continuously mocked Daryl with, a number of which he was proud. He pressed his lips together a little more until they paled slightly under the pressure.

It sure had been right to kill them all. He _hated_ them after what they had done to Murphy. To their relationship. To his own wellbeing. He turned his head a bit more and was even more surprised to find his sibling almost right next to him, for Murphy had finally and just for a moment gained interest in the happeinngs and the priest himself. Because after all, Murphy was very religious, too. Maybe even slightly more than Connor these days. He hated the walkers, but the number question sure got him thinking a bit more in the pressence of a priest.

A priest who seriously might be telling the truth, and who might be the real deal. No matter how ridiculous his church and Gabriel and god talk sounded these days in the presence of the apocalypse and the walking dead.

“How many people have you killed?“ Rick went on, and Gabriel turned his head to look at Rick in disbelief, almost horror.  
  
“None“ he said like it was the most logical thing in the world. Connor just stared at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Daryl looked at him at that remark, privately, getting the vibe. For a short moment, Connor looked almost sinister. Certainly dark. Pondering. Daryl knew that his friend was thinking about his own kill count right now. He just didn't exactly know if it was a worried reminiscing, or a pleased one. He for one did worry about that question in Connor's regard. For one, because he honestly didn't even know how many _people_ Connor had killed exactly. Before and after the turning. But even more worringly, he had the slight suspicion that out of all of them in the group, his serial religious killer twin brother included, Connor had murdered the largest amount of people here.  
  
Rick finished his searching for weapons and then got back up, looking straight at Gabriel with piercing eyes.

“Why?“

“Because the lord abhors violence“ Gabriel said with an honest and almost pleading look on his face, once again looking like to him, it was the most natural and logical thing in the world. He eventually looked back at Connor and Murphy, hoping that they would understand, believe. Because out of the group, they were the most striking, they were the ones with large religious tattoos and rosaries.

But the look on Connor's face got even more hardened, distant, and cold. Like he was once again getting trapped in his thinking world. Murphy almost invisibly and subconsciously moved closer to Connor, slightly behind him in his defense under the glare. Just like Connor he thought that this wasn't necessarily true, that god after all had called upon them to slay evil men with violence and death, but just like Connor, although in a different way, he wondered a bit if the priest was right. They sure had always done this even before the apocalypse, he thought, since he couldn’t exactly remember his thoughts prior to the headshot, but he was still damn sure of it.  
  
At the end of the day, Murphy stood his ground anyway right next to Connor, thinking of their calling as right and just, and that god was no one to judge them. Or any of the others these days, since violence, a lot of times, meant sheer self defense in hopes to live to the next day, to stay alive, to survive.

Neither of the MacManus twins would say anything, although the others were watching and waiting.

Connor would've been the most likely candidate to speak up regarding faith, religion, a priest and god. He was the reasonable, bossy one after all. Murphy was thinking that too and subconciously waiting for his bossier half to do just that. Connor, however, stayed quiet, much to everyone’s surprise. He just observed with a look on his face that was impossible to read.

Even for Daryl, who was looking at him with a frown. All he knew was the source of Connor's silence though. Disagreement.

Rick eventually broke the silence and approached Gabriel again to look at him with a frown.

“What have you done?” he asked, getting closer and closer. He looked a bit scary like that, with the intimidating stare and the beard. The weeks on the road after the fall of Woodbury sure had taken their toll on their leader. Gabriel struggled a bit and swallowed hard, looking down like a subdued dog. It was silent for a while, but Rick wouldn’t give in.

“We’ve all done something.”  
  
“I’m a sinner. I sin almost every day. But those sins I confess them to god” Gabriel eventually answered, then looked at Daryl and the rest of the group. “Not strangers.”  
  
Rick narrowed his eyes a little but still wouldn’t back off, obviously not pleased with the answer. Gabriel eventually looked down again and it almost felt like they could _hear_ him sweat and shiver. The whole group just stared and waited as the silence became awkward and uncomfortable, then eventually, Connor finally spoke up.

“C’mon, Rick. If the guy were any threat, shit would’ve gone haywire a while ago. Give ‘im a break fer now” he said and walked forward a bit to gently grab Rick by his arm to pull him away a bit from the priest. Rick looked at Gabriel a moment longer but then snorted, turning around to give Connor a sideglare.

“You and your brother engage him in biblical talk later. Keep an eye on him. Figure out if he’s the real deal. I don’t trust him. He’s hiding something” Rick muttered as he was just about to walk back over to his children. Connor nodded and turned his head for a short moment to look back at the priest, who was clumsily wiping his sweaty hands on his clerical clothing.  
  
“I know. Same here. Now let’s just chill fer a moment and get this done with…” he said and then quickly turned around again, already on his way to his best poker face and fake act.

“You said you had a church, father?” he asked with a charismatic smile.

* * *

 

“Do you think that, whoever was in that car ye saw, has her?” Murphy suddenly asked, now that Connor had finally taken some time away from the newbie to walk next to him. It was getting more and more obvious that Murphy was a bit down, and his brother couldn’t exactly blame him. This was the second day in a row now that they hadn’t found Samantha or the baby, although they had pretty much spent the entire day looking for her. Back at Terminus, back at the cabin, miles and miles of woodland, but so far, absolutely nothing.

“Well, it would explain why we haven’t found her. Or why Daryl hasn’t found her. I mean y’know him. He usually finds everything he’s lookin fer. Little kids. Food. You..me…”  
  
Murphy huffed once.

“Yeah right.”  
  
Connor let out a little sigh and wrapped an arm around his twin’s shoulder and then nudged the side of his cheek with his fist once, only to then massage his healthy shoulder and come closer.

“Please don’t leave yer head hangin, Murph. Ye gotta believe in it and we’ll find her.”

“Well, but she isn’t us, Connor” Murphy growled a little and Connor took a deep breath. He looked straight forward and eventually let go of his twin to get more serious.

“What do you want me t’say? Do ye want me to say that I think she was in that car? Cos I don’t know if I want to think she was in that car. And most of all, who was driving that car.”  
  
“I know, I don’t know if I want t’think that either” Murphy mumbled and got back to chewing on his nails, which had been reduced to nothing by now because of all the stress from the previous two days. He then wiped his hands. “I’d just be something, y’know. Some trace or idea t’hold on to.”

“I know, Murph” Connor said quietly, until he shrugged a little.

“Let’s just be straight forward and get te facts straight..”  
  
“If ye say that she’s most likely dead anyway by now then I’m gonna punch yer fuckin face cos that’s _not_ helpin, Connor.”  
  
“What? No, are ye shittin me? I was gonna say something completely different. Taking it strictly professional and deductive…we know fer sure that we haven’t found her body or the baby’s body so far..”

“Aye..”  
  
“…only corpses of walkers who’ve been shot and later stabbed t’death..”  
  
“…aye.”  
  
“Which means that she’s very most likely _not_ dead. The walkers belonged to a herd that was walking _away_ fram us and the cabin we last saw her, and Daryl concluded that they were following something or someone, she obviously shot them at first and then ran outta bullets and then stabbed them when they got t’close…”  
  
“..aye” Murphy said, looking a little more eager already.

“…and we know that she’s a super tough bitch..”  
  
“..Eh!..”  
  
“…cos she travelled half the fucking country without immunity and _with_ a baby just cos she thought she might find something down here, and she did that completely on her own which is pretty fuckin impressive…”  
  
“Aye.”  
  
“…and she killed bad guys along with us ta protect her child, so she’ll most likely manage on her own even without us, because she’s one tough cookie mama bear.”

Murphy chuckled a little at that, giving his brother an appreciative smile for the prep talk.

“And last but not least, about tha car: even if it took her, it obviously didn’t just drive off and kidnapped ‘er. They _want_ something. _They came fuckin back_. They came back t’spy on us during nighttime because they obviously want something fram us. And if dat’s really the case, they’ll keep following and they’ll come back and if they do, I’m fuckin ready.”  
  
“Me, too” Murphy said with a determined little nod and then let his eyes roam their surroundings once again, a bit warily, because he truly wondered if anybody was watching them.

“Damn right, ye’n me, Murph. And Daryl and te rest of ‘em. We’re all in this tagether cos family’s family. We don’ leave people behind.”

Murphy nodded once again and then looked at his brother.

“Thanks, Connor.”

Connor turned his head and smiled at his twin. It was an appreciative and loving smile, one which Murphy couldn’t help but return. Connor then looked to the side and nodded a little.

“I fuckin owe ye after all.”

Murphy rolled his eyes and gave him a warning “Connor.”  
  
Connor nodded and let out a little sigh.  
  
“Aye, I know” he muttered and they silently walked for a moment, until Connor looked at Murphy again.

“Feel a bit better now?”

Murphy nodded after a moment.

“Aye. Would feel better if we had smokes, though.”  
  
“Fuckin _amen_ t’that” Connor exhaled and fumbled with his dangling rosary a bit instead, to keep his nervous and itching hands occupied especially since they couldn’t hold a cigarette instead. But after a few moments of playing with the rosary (which was mirrored by Murphy without the two of them noticing), Connor eventually focused on their group and their latest addition instead. He then nudged Murphy to get his attention and vaguely pointed at Gabriel.

“If dat guy’s the real deal and there really is a church and if we haven’t found her or te baby by nightfall, we’ll settle down, both ye in me in tha church, and we’ll pray fer her. Ye heard the man talk. He asked fer help. Help came. Maybe that’ll make ye feel better” Connor said and held on to his rosary a little tighter. He got lost in thoughts for a moment and looked down as he had to ponder on something.

“ And if he’s really the real deal, we know that some serious shit is going down right now and these days” he then muttered.  
  
Murphy frowned a little.

“Like what?”  
  
Connor pressed his lips together and then took a slow and deep breath.

“Never mind, fuck it. Let’s concentrate on you and yer search first. This isn’t about me right now, ferget about it.”

Murphy slowed down a little so they could fall back a little more, so the group couldn’t hear.

“Connor” he said once again with a serious look on his face, but Connor shook his head.

“Na’ah. It’s fuckin alright, Murph. Quit it” he said angrily, obviously suddenly having changed his mind for whatever reason. It was obvious that he wanted to keep his quiet and relaxed tough guy act up, to keep cool and cheery for him during this search without any signs of personal problems, but Murphy saw right through him, so he just huffed a little.

“I know shit’s changed between us, but it hasn’t changed _that_ much that ye can’t tell me shit anymore, Connor. How many times do I have ta tell ye. I forgave ye months ago. Ye don’t have ta keep a fuckin act up 24/7 in fronta me” he muttered, obviously disappointed.

Connor looked up and stared at Murphy’s profile, a bit surprised by the subconscious meaning of these words. He knew that Murphy didn’t remember much from their old life before the apocalypse, only tiny important fragments. Certainly not their countless, quieter nights or more serious talks whenever they had been completely honest with each other and told each other every little secret and fear, no matter how silly or whiny it had been. With that simple statement Murphy had practically said that same thing. _You always told me everything you feel or think regardless of the situation and I did, too_. _And now look at us._

He eventually shook his head eagerly to let him know that it wasn’t because they had changed and become a bit more distant, but because of something else entirely.

“No, it’s not like that, alright? I just spent the past couple of weeks keeping you and Daryl up with my shit and problems all te time, and I just didn’t want that ta get in the way when ye obviously have bigger problems right now, okay? But I’ll tell ye if ye wanna.”  
  
“Yes, Connor. Do tell me and don’ make freaking cryptic statements like tha only ta drop ‘em” Murphy said, a bit angrily, and Connor chewed on his lower lip. He walked a bit slower and stared at the priest and their group, until he eventually started talking.

“The priest guy just got me thinking. These whole past two fucking days fer that matter. Or more like, the past month” he said, snorting a little.

“You and thinkin, wow, what a surprise” Murphy said sarcastically and Connor nudged him a little bit.

“Shut up ye little shit” he said and Murphy giggled a little. Then eventually, Connor got serious again and looked straight ahead.

“It’s been a while since I last prayed. Or confessed. Or read t’bible, or spent time on anything religious and actually thought it through or _meant_ it. I think…I was losing faith a bit?Te priest just made me realieze that. And now that Hershel's dead...” he eventually admitted and looked at Murphy. Suddenly, the younger MacManus twin thought to see a little fear and worry in his brother’s eyes. He eventually let out a little sigh and looked down.

“Aye, I know. ‘ve noticed yer losing faith.”

“I don’t know. The shit with Woodbury and what they did just took a baaad fuckin turn on me, brother. I don’t even know why. I was bad when I lost ye, but not like this. That was in a much different way. But this time, it was just…fuckin different, too. Fuckin _scary_ , actually? I don’t even know. Feels like the faith's gettin replaced with wrath. An not a righteous healthy one.“

“I know, Con. Me ‘n Daryl’ve noticed tha a while ago. And we talk about it a lot, actually” Murphy said quietly. He was grateful that Connor was telling him this, that he was open and honest, but the truth was that just like Connor, he was a little worried and scared, too.

“I wasn’t gonna tell ye because it’s still freaking _me_ out, but yer my fuckin twin brother and yer right, we tell each other” Connor went on and then took another deep breath, struggling a little bit, until he spoke it out. “I killed a woman back at Terminus” he said and Murphy stopped in his tracks, looking at Connor with wide surprised eyes. Connor nodded a little and the look on his face hardened.

“I take it ye remember te code?”

“No women, no kids” Murphy said and Connor snorted a little. “Outta all things, of course ye remember tha one” he muttered to himself and then looked down. “Like ten years of serial killin, and even Da never managed that shit, Murph” he added and kicked a branch away.

Then he eventually looked back up.

“I mean she fuckin deserved it. They was eating people, Murph. It looked fuckin horrible in there, ye can’t even imagine. Scumbags of te earth they were. Luring unsuspecting people in with kids and shit only ta keep ‘em in containers like cattle until they skinned an’ ate ‘em and she was part of it and tried ta fuckin _justify_ it. It made me angry that it just flipped a switch, even ye would’ve pulled the fuckin trigger because she so had it comin…but still. I don’t like it. And I do have ta admit that I stayed behind just ta kill more of these scumbags on me own. Not fer the sake of killing scumbags, but fer the sake of killing. Just like I did with te walkers back at Hershel’s farm, or the others. After Woodbury, I just wanted t’fuckin murder _something._ I don’t know why. Past couple ‘a weeks, it’s all I could think about” he went on. “Then the shit with Daryl…”

“What shit with Daryl?” Murphy muttered, and Connor snorted.

“Ye fuckin know. The whole… _really_ screwin around business.”

Murphy snorted as well, a bit awkwardly at first, until he got serious again.

“But ye like…Con, you fuckin love each other. He sure loves ye a fuckin lot. _Everyone_ knows that.”

Connor chuckled once, but quickly got serious again, too.

“Aye, I  know. But ye also fuckin know how we grew up and what we believe in.”

“I know that we got truth and justice tattooed on ourselves. And I know that we’ve never taken every last letter of the bible literal. And I also know that we were raised ta believe in fuckin justice, equality, truth, and most of all good. I know I wasn’t exactly fond of it at first, but even I can’t deny that te redneck’s doin ye good and that yer makin each other fuckin happy. I _see_ that. We've _killed people_ , Con, thinking it ta be right by god. And I know bad when I see it. People eatin people is bad. People murdering and raping and stealin is bad. Lovin people is fuckin not. Especially not in this world. So shut it now.”

Connor smirked a little and eventually nodded.

“Aye. I know” he said and then looked back at Gabriel.

“It’s not where I wanted this ta head anyway. What I wanted ta aim fer…we found te group again, and now this fuckin _priest_. It got me thinking. If he’s te real deal and if there is a church, then this whole fuckin day is a _sign_ , Murph. A sign fer me and fer you as well” he said, nodding. “God’s still there. He’s still watching over us, letting -me- know not ta lose it. And he wants us ta stay strong and live by his word. Even in this fucked up shithole of a world. And that we’ll find yer girl, too, and that not everything is as fucked as I think it is, or that there’s nothing but scumbags these days. It’s just what we…what _I_ fuckin needed right now if I’m honest. If there _is_ a church and he really is a priest, it’s a sign.”

Murphy snorted a little and stroke Connor’s arm once, gently and affectionately, but even then the worry in him was obvious.

“Well of course it’s a sign, dickhead. Even if it weren’t, he’s always fuckin there, Con. Why’d ye think _I’m_ still here. Or you” he said and then huffed. “I mean fuckin look at us. I survived a headshot. Look at _this_ ” he said and lifted Connor’s arm lazily to show him the faint scar of his first bite wound. “If that isn’t sign enough that there’s a future and hope, then I don’t know what it is. We’re fuckin _immune_ to a disease that wiped out half the freakin population. That’s a blinkin Vegas billboard sign with a pink ‘SIGN’ inscription.”

Connor looked at it and huffed once, too.

“Right. Not sure if tha one’s a good sign _fer us_ , though.”

Murphy chuckled a little.

“Aye. Certainly not a sign we should show ta Sergeant Washington or anybody else who wants ta kill us over it.”

Connor laughed a little, too.

“Fuckin A.”

“Now get yer shit t’gether, Con. Seriously. Don’t be a fockin baby ‘bout it.”

Connor huffed a little but wouldn’t say anything regarding that. He had to admit that the talk had been less problematic than he had pictured it to be, even the problem itself, even when it usually kept him up at night by now. Although he was normally expert at hiding it and playing it up. Maybe that had been the exact problem. Hiding the worry over his darkened nature had been pretty damn tiring for the past weeks. It actually felt _good_ to let go for once. And not just around Daryl, but around Murphy.

“Do ye think they’re fer real though?” Murphy interrupted Connor’s thinking, and the blonde looked up.

“Who, mullet gang?”  
  
Murphy laughed a little.

“Aye.”

Connor let out a little sigh and shrugged. He absently reached for his jeans pockets to get a lighter and cigarette only to curse when he found the pockets empty. He pouted a little and went on with their chat instead.

“Just like I said. Not sure. I mean two instances of ‘fer real’ in one day? That would be too much of a sign of ‘punked’ and ‘hidden camera’ though, wouldn’t it. Who’d you wanna bet’s not fer real? Priest or Washington?”

Murphy chuckled.

“Definitely the mullet.”

“Aye. I mean a man with _that_ kinda haircut just _can’t_ be fer fuckin real” Connor agreed and they both started cackling. They got interrupted when they suddenly heard some branches crack behind them, which startled them and made the both of them turn around on instinct, with their weapons drawn the second the turned.

Connor and Murphy were partially back to back, covering each other, and then let their eyes roam their surroundings. For a moment, there was nothing, then there it was again, a bit closer but still somewhat away. They both tried to be as still as possible and held their breath, and behind them, they could hear that unfortunately, the group hadn’t heard them or the cracking. They were still walking and chatting, oblivious to the danger. Murphy looked a bit to the side so he could somewhat eye Connor, but it was practically useless because it was his bad eye.

“D’ye think it’s those people from tha car?” he whispered but Connor shushed him angrily, then there was another cracking of branches. And another. Right behind the tree and bushes to their slight left. Connor slowly and as quietly as possible undid the safety of his gun and then nudged Murphy to let him know that he was supposed to have his knife ready to throw. They were a split second away from attacking when the danger emerged from behind the tree, revealing a face just like Murphy’s, with a crossbow on his back and a handful of squirrels. Daryl came around the tree and then stopped in his tracks as he faced the MacManus twins with their weapons, huffing once and then raising his hands in the air with the squirrels dangling around.

“We surrender” he said and Connor secured his weapon with a gentle snort as he put it away. He eventually smiled and casually started walking towards Daryl, while Murphy put his knife away with a little growl.

“Fuckin squirrels again? Seriously? It’s like yah got a fuckin fetish fer those fuckin things” he complained and Daryl snorted once.

“Well yeah? Better get used to it, punk” he said and threw the squirrels right at Murphy, who dodged the attack with an angry “Fuck you!” but eventually picked them up because at the end of the day, they were food now and he was hungry as hell.

“What te fuck took ye so long?” Connor asked in the meantime while Daryl adjusted his crossbow. He gave Connor a little smile at first but then looked at Murphy, chewing on his lips a bit.

“Went the long way to go look for the girl some more” he muttered and Murphy listened up a little more.

“And?” he asked, looking Daryl directly in the eye. Daryl just shook his head with a mumbled “Sorry, M.”

Murphy just nodded and looked down.

“It’s alright. Ye tried yer best” he muttered and then stood awkwardly around a little more, until he eventually turned around.

“I’m gonna go, tell the group ta slow the fuck down, a bit” he muttered and then already started jogging towards them, instinctively knowing that Daryl wanted a little alone time with his brother, which he didn’t mind. Not anymore.

“He doin alright?” Daryl asked as both he and Connor watched him. The latter let out a little sigh.

“Well, he sure’s trying. But I don’t know man. I don’t know…”  
  
Daryl turned his head to look at Connor.

“I found some fresh tire tracks by the road. Not too far from here. Can’t tell which direction it went, but it sure was fresh and there were footsteps in the dirt like they stopped and kept watch.”

“Really?” Connor asked and turned around to eye the woods once more. “Well, fuck me. So they’re really onto us.”

“Looks like it” Daryl muttered and did the same, watching the tree line.

“Just one fuckin day off, I tell ye” Connor muttered as he shook his head.

Daryl huffed a little and raised an eyebrow.

“You? One day off from scumbag slaying? Really?Who are yah and what have yah done 't freakshow serial killer leprechaun.”

Connor rolled his eyes and then stopped watching the forest warily.

“Gimme a fuckin break. I’m just fuckin tired and hungry and sick of this shit after Hannibal Lecter reloaded.”

“Chill, alright. I got yah some squirrels. And this” Daryl muttered and then threw a little pack at his friend.

At first, for whatever reason, Connor thought it were condoms, some stupid joke, or maybe this was his mind telling him that he was needy, but he was pleassently surprised to see cigarettes instead. There were six in the pack and he looked up in surprise, and Daryl gave him a knowing, playful and yet cocky smirk.

“Found those on a walker and figured you’d be bit more bearable, leprechaun.”

“You beautiful. fuckin. _bitch_ ” Connor said and immediately grabbed Daryl by his face with both hands to pull him forcefully towards him so he could give him an even more forceful kiss. The hunter squeezed his eyes shut and let out a displeased grunt, only to shove at Connor to get him off of him. The Irishman let out a silly deep giggle and then got focused on the cigarettes instead, mumbling a “Just what I need“ while taking two to light them in his mouth. He then handed one over to Daryl.

Connor then threw his head back a little and looked at the sky, watching the smoke fly away from his mouth as he let out a deep and pleasured humming sound, which sounded like a half moan. For just a second Daryl caught himself watching and staring at Connor’s exposed throat like that, then he quickly looked away and took a drag on his own cigarette, actually fighting hard and telling himself that he was not going to get a fucking boner from just freaking seeing and hearing this. _Damn_.

“We should tell the group” Connor said after a moment of enjoying his cigarette as they made their way back to Murphy, Rick and the others.

“We should fuck” it suddenly came out of Daryl after the sight although he hadn’t meant to let that thought slip, but somehow, despite the embarrassment and inappropriateness of it all, it still seemed fitting. Connor breathed the smoke in the wrong way and ended up coughing and then laughing.

“Aye..” he said, still coughing. “That, too.”

He took another drag and really seemed more relaxed. Daryl felt embarrassed but still smirked and looked down a bit, secretly enjoying that his friend didn’t make fun of the statement he had let slip, but agreed instead. He was getting more and more comfortable with the thing, too, which definitely made the whole situation a lot funnier than it would have been a couple of months ago.

“We’ll tell the group about te tracks, check out tha church, find some more ta eat and drink, figure out te rest with Sergeant Washington and his crew, and if there’s anytime left of the day, I’ll fuck ye and ye get ta massage me feet and cut my dirty toenails and make me squirrel dinner.”

Daryl snorted. So the joke had to come after all. Of _course_.

“Yah lost me at you fuckin _me_.”

“C’mon. Don’t be shy, Darylena, ye know ye’ll like it. Yer practically askin fer it all the time.”

“Sound any more rape-y?” Daryl growled a bit angrily and Connor blew out some more smoke, rolling his eyes. “It was a joke, okay? It was a fuckin joke. I know how things are. Ye should know by now that I’m a dick when it comes ta humor and jokes.”

“Yeah. And they ain’t even funny” Daryl added, as Connor huffed in protest.

Daryl slowed down a bit so that they wouldn’t catch up to the group to soon, because he seriously needed to get it off his chest, although he did struggle with it for a while. He knew it was needy and virginal but he didn’t care, because it also happened to be true.

“’m serious, though. ‘s it gonna be like that all the freakin time now that we’re back with the group? Cos that ain’t fair, man.”

“What do ye mean? My jokes?” Connor asked with a little frown, which made Daryl a little more frustrated and angry.

“That, too” he growled and stayed quiet for a while, hoping that his friend would get it.

“I meant it” he eventually said, hinting a little more all the while trying to avoid details.

“Meant fuckin what” Connor said, growing impatient. Jesus, he was so dumb and didn’t get shit that Daryl just wanted to freakin _slap_ that stupid face of his.

“Us. Fuckin. When” Daryl eventually snarled, when it became obvious that it would probably take Connor another 100 years to get it.

Connor actually looked a bit taken aback by the sheer bluntness of these words, then he eventually chuckled a little.

“Yer so damn romantic. Redneck Shakespeare material dat is.”

The hunter snorted.

“See, this is exactly what I fuckin mean. As soon as we’re around people, yah go back t’being a dick ‘bout it and avoid answerin and think yah better than me. But when I fucked you those two times you ain’t been playin that you liked my freakin dick up your ass.”

“We’ll fuck soon enough, alright? If we fuck, we fuck. Yer talkin about rape-y and can’t even wait a couple fuckin days ta get it on?” the Irishman asked angrily, now obviously annoyed.

Daryl remained quiet because this was exactly what he’d been thinking. Connor, thinking of him as freaking needy. And maybe it was true. Wasn’t like he could help it, _wouldn’t that Irish hothead get that?_

Connor moved his fingers through his hair and looked back at the group for a moment.

“Jesus, Daryl. My brother just lost his fucking girlfriend in the woods ‘round here. We’re being watched by some freakin car squad of people, and we just slaughtered a cannibal camp a day ago, so excuse me if I’m not in the fuckin mood fer this shit right now.”

“Oh yeah, of course it’s that, huh” Daryl said with an angry look on his face, having taken note of when Connor had looked back at the group.

“Do you seriously still fuckin think that I’m doing this because of the fuckin group or you.”

The hunter just glared at him, challenging, but Connor glared right back.

“Don’t project what _yer_ thinking into my actions, alright? I get what yer playing at and I’m telling ye I’m not fucking playin with ye, here. If you think people’ll hide shit from their family just cos they’re with ye, be my fuckin guest, but I tell ye if I don’t wanna fuck, it’s not cos of other people or you, but because I don’t wanna. After all the shit we’ve done and me letting you fuck _me_ all te time, ye should be past that insecurity shit of yours by now.”

Daryl paced around a little and continued to glare at Connor, doing his usual almost animalistic but quiet tandrum like he had used to do it a lot more on the farm, but eventually, when his friend wouldn’t give in and give him what he wanted to see or hear, he eventually calmed a bit.

“Yer real fuckin _bad_ at this thing, ye know that, right?” Connor eventually asked after a moment, when he knew that they were in safe harbor again. Daryl still grumbled a bit but eventually nodded, suddenly chuckling a bit.

“Yeah, no shit.”

“ _Us. Fuckin. When_ ” Connor imitated him with a low voice, making it sound almost like a prehistoric man and Daryl glared at him, until they both burst out laughing.

“Fuck you” Daryl snarled and they both got walking again because the group was far up ahead by now. The hunter looked down and hid his face a little but then he was chuckling a little again, too.

Connor still kept laughing because he wanted to, needed to, enjoyed it while he could because he knew Daryl was no longer mad, and never really had been. Just like the many times before, he’d just been damn insecure.

“Shut up” the hunter eventually muttered and grabbed his crossbow tighter, until Connor calmed down.

The hunter was eager to forget all about it, although it had not resolved the initial problem, or his doubts for that matter. But he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, didn’t want to think about it or hear about it for now. He also didn’t want to keep fighting with Connor, stress them even more on top of the hunger, danger, and worry.

“What about Jesus Christ over there, get anything out of him?” he asked as they quickly tried to catch up with the group.

“Not yet, I was busy talking with Murph fer a bit. But I’ll get ta him, don’t worry. Murph’s already on it.”

“Good. What about mullet gang?”

“I told Rick I don’t trust the shit outta them.”

“Yeah, me neither” Daryl mused and fixed his eyes on the funny mullet in the distance.

“Could yah imagine that shit though?” he suddenly said then, making Connor look at him. “A real solution t’stop geeks from walking?”

His friend chuckled.

“Ye’d be fuckin lost, wouldn’t ye. No more zombie killer of the year.”

“Ha, yeah” Daryl said with a smirk, looking down.

“No more losing people, though” he added after a moment and Connor nodded melancholy.

“Aye, that one’s good.”

The hunter looked at his friend, wondering for just a moment what that would be like. He knew it was practically impossible and wishful thinking, but he gave in and tried to picture it, a return to society, getting humanity and what was left of it going again, where the only threat that was left were other people and maybe a lack of food.

He knew that he’d be a bit lost in that world. He’d never fit in it anyway, proper civilized living with ordinary people and white picked fences and all that stuff. But he tried to picture it, wondering if Connor were still with him in that ordinary world. Maybe he wouldn’t and that scared him a bit.

Maybe this fucked up world was the only excuse enough to blame this ‘forbidden’ relationship for. Desperate times, desperate measures. Who was there to tell that, if they got back to the old world, Connor wouldn’t go back to his old life as well. With is brother, killing evil guys, hooking up with women, maybe starting a family one day, whereas he….’d probably still roam the woods, hunting, all dirtied up. Connor had said more than once that he wanted to have kids some day. And he was a religious man. Kids meant a wife. Kids meant white picket fence. Society meant hate crimes and rules and prohibition.

Back to their normal world meant back to his old life without Merle and his family, back to drifting without purpose or people who needed him and relied on him. He wanted it for Rick and his kids’ sake and for all the others, so Maggie and Glenn could have kids and get married the proper way and have a normal family, so Carol could start her life over and so Beth could finish high school and college and university and god knows what she wanted to do, so little asskicker could grow up not having to kill anything but butterflies during play. He wanted it to be real for them, but not for himself. For him, it would be worse. It would be lonely and depressing no matter what.

“I don’t think it’s gonna happen, though” Connor interrupted his thinking and Daryl looked at his friend curiously. “ I already told Rick. Something seems off about ‘em”the Irishman muttered, staring straight ahead with a little frown.

Daryl frowned a little as well.

“What’d you mean?”

“Ye heard it, I asked about Augusta and they didn’t have a clue. I mean…if he were in tune with people from D.C., then he and most of all they should’ve heard about all the shit we went through in Augusta. Me, Murph, even you. If he really knows a solution and so on, he should know about us. He doesn’t. Ye saw it and ye heard it. Guy must be a fuckin fraud and I ain’t buyin it.”

Daryl chewed on his lips a bit and nodded after a moment, finding it a bit odd as well.

“Maybe it’s a good thing they don’t know about yah. Cos I sure as hell remember Augusta and the shit that went down back there.”

Connor snorted.

“Aye, exactly. That’s what I told Rick.”

It was quiet for a moment until the Irishman went on.

“And I told him that if it turns out ta be true, Murphy and I are not coming. I certainly don’t want Murph ta be anywhere near old quacks who wanna open up his fucking head and kill him ta find some fucking cure with a 20 per cent chance. Or me head fer that matter.”

“Yeah, I ain’t gonna let that happen either.”

Connor smiled a little and nodded.

“Aye, I know. So we’re good? Leavin the group if we have ta?”

Daryl raised an eyebrow.

“You think I’m lettin yah two leprechauns outta my sight after working my ass off to keep you outta trouble yah drag up my porch anyway?”

By now, Connor was grinning.

“Ye say such sweet things…”  
  
“Besides, maybe then yah’ll be more fuckable again with less people ‘round.”

“….such such sweet things” Connor continued, laughing. He eventually gave in and gave his friend a quick kiss once more to settle things once and for all. He knew it was stupid but he didn’t care, he wanted to let his friend know that despite him not being ready to screw around right now, he sure as hell did care.

He wasn’t exactly surprised when Daryl got heated almost immediately, clawed a little at his shirt and even intensified the kiss by adding his tongue, becoming somewhat animalistic again and letting himself go with a little grunt because he missed them together. Connor gave him a short, firm squeeze between his legs but then abruptly let go of him to put some distance between them, laughing a little because he knew he had his friend at the play.

The grumbled “Motherfucker” behind him told him all he needed to know and he grinned even more as he simply fished for his own jeans to get the cigarette pack so he could light a cigarette with a loving smirk instead. He hadn’t just ended it to tease his friend and piss him off a bit, he’d also done it because he had felt and heard Murphy come closer even when he was still somewhat away.

It didn’t take long and Murphy came jogging back towards them, now that Daryl had cooled off again and was somewhat next to Connor once more, shouldering his crossbow and trying to look tough as usual.

“We found the fuckin church, Con” Murphy announced, quickly eyeing them until he fixed his eyes on his brother again with a knowing look and a little smile.

“He’s the real deal. There is a freaking church.”

And they knew they had their sign right there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Connaryl were so bitchy in this chapter and not so sweet. But I wanted to stay true to Connor's characterization and what's going on with him lately and how that plays into their sex life. PLUS, of course my Daryl's secretly needy now that he's 'outta the closet' lmao. But don't worry, they'll be sweet and lovey-dovey soon enough again.
> 
> Plus, if Connor came across as a dick in this chapter, mission accomplished, but please don't be too hard on him. Although my writing might not bring it across sometimes, he loves Daryl just as much as the other way round. He's just super shitty at showing it. But he'll come around, I promise! He's my favourite character and complex and deep down, my Connor's not a complete a-hole and dick, he's a goodie!


	5. You will burn for this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! First of all, I'm sorry I couldn't fit my planned Connaryl in this chapter, but there were too many things going on and the chapter would've gotten wayyyyy too long otherwise. But, good news is that we'll DEFINITELY have some sweet Connaryl-ing in the next chapter then. I already wrote a large part of that chapter, too, so it shouldn't take me so long to update and give you some action. Hopefully haha.
> 
> Sorry that this chapter is very talk heavy and not really moving forward again, but some season material has to be adressed to get the story moving forward for later stuff. Hope you still like it, although it might be a bit boring lately. But that will change with the Atlanta storyline and THAT ending, I promise!

The group exited the woods on a dusty path, curious to see what Gabriel had been talking about, slowing down when they saw the first hints of white and manmade structure. The church really was beautiful and almost out of this world. It was a small wooden building that was painted white, with a porch leading up to the entrance. The simple bell tower competed with surrounding trees in height, the structures clean, simple and yet elegant. It was quiet the peculiar sight, simply because everything was still so tidy, almost untouched. The group almost found it too innocent and inviting, which was exactly the reason why they stayed wary nevertheless.

Connor eyed the bell tower curiously, almost in disbelief, because there was no way he had expected to _really_ find a church, a monument of their religion. So far, everything the priest had said had turned out to be true. The fact that he was unarmed, unskillful around the dead, that he had a church and knew his bible. Connor got almost angry with himself how _hard_ it still was to believe, to think that _anyone_ could still be good these days, religious, moral. Even now, despite the sight of this church and his earlier talk about wanting to come across a sign, he felt some doubt, anger, the readiness to fight and kill.

The group approached the church together, eyeing it just as curiously and carefully. All the windows were intact, the door a thick and hard, steady wood that sure had kept the undead outside. Rick, just like before, was the one to take the lead and walked up the porch first, checking the door and trying to get a better view.

In the meantime Murphy slowed down a bit and took a closer look at the sign in front of the church that read “ST. SARAH’S CHURCH”. He couldn’t read it because of his brain injury but knew that the letters were probably spelling out the name, so he just chewed on his lips, grumbling a bit. Looking up, he inspected the bell tower, then gave Connor a knowing and kind of hopeful but careful look, only to turn his head to scan the surrounding area. For other people, an ambush, something suspicious, but ultimately, still for Samantha and the child. Maybe she had found this church, too, by now, but his hopes weren’t exactly high anymore.

Daryl, after having gently nudged Connor’s lower back, eventually walked past his friend so he could keep an eye on Rick and the rest as well as their surroundings, crossbow ready to shoot if things went wrong. He was especially ready when Gabriel walked up the porch, too, to open the door, but Rick immediately told the priest to stop, coming closer.

“We take a look around first” he instructed, holding out his hands for the keys. Connor walked over to the side of the church in the meantime, so he could look through one of the windows, to check if everything was clear and that no surprises were waiting for them. He momentarily froze when he noticed something else though, on the side of the church, words carved into the white paint and wood.

 _YOU WILL BURN FOR THIS_ , it read, carved in thin, ominous letters. Connor frowned a little, his heart rate going up. He raised his head to stare up at the bell tower and sky again, only to look inside the church that seemed empty.

He knew that the writing should mainly alert him because of the priest, make him suspicious what the writing could mean in relation to him or what had happened here, but a big part of him couldn’t help but take it personal. It somehow felt like god and his religion were talking to _him_ directly, judging him for the woman’s murder, and everything else that had been unnecessarily brutal and that he _had_ done. His latest killings, the fact that he had mainly enjoyed them and committed them for just that.

 _YOU WILL BURN FOR THIS,_ it read on the church’s wooden wall, and Connor swallowed and pressed his lips together. He startled a little when he heard how Rick called his name to get him to come closer. Connor shook his head a little angrily and started walking to see what Rick and the rest of their group wanted, still a bit lost in thoughts.

_No. This had nothing to do with him. What he had done had been right._

Once he was around the corner he could see Rick, Daryl, Murphy, Glenn and Michonne by the door and knew what this was about. He nodded and walked a bit faster when Rick instructed him to enter the church along with the others to make sure it was safe, and when he walked up the porch Daryl almost immediately leaned in closer to him, having noticed the strange and thoughtful look on his friend’s face.

“You alright?” he muttered and Connor just nodded with a muttered “Aye”. He placed his hand on Daryl’s shoulder to squeeze it and then quickly walked forward. He then placed a hand on Murphy’s shoulder to squeeze it as well, telling himself that he was doing it to reassure his sibling just like he had always done when in reality, he needed the support from them both right now. Murphy gave him a tiny nod and got ready, wondering what they were going to find inside, oblivious to his twin’s worries.

Rick opened the church door with a loud creaking noise, gun drawn and ready to fight, just like the rest of the small group that was now entering the building. The interior of the church was somewhat dark but also almost as tidy and neat as its exterior, with all the benches and other furniture still in order. The group split up in three sections, with Rick and Daryl taking the middle of the aisle, Connor and Murphy going to the left of the benches and Glenn and Michonne going to the right. It didn’t smell or look like any dead had been around here for a while, maybe even at all.

For a short moment, it once again felt like dejá-vu, if Daryl tried to imagine the stench of rotting corpses. He didn’t even need to think too hard. It was always easy to remember the day he had found Connor in a church just like this, in the middle of nowhere, kneeling in front of the altar, in all his general misery. He didn’t need to think hard and he could still remember his own curiosity, the anger and all the questions when Connor had turned around and almost immediately called him Murphy, completely delirious, half insane, and incredibly fucking depressed.

And now….he turned his head to look at the MacManus twins as they were now, how they were walking down the smaller aisle to the left side of the benches, focused, somewhat ‘well’ fed, normal, alert. Now Murphy was _actually_ there and Connor wasn’t a mess of long hair, skinny bones and beard, now he had his normal shorter and spiky hair and stubble, looked handsome even, if you ignored all the scars and everything else he had been through.

Daryl automatically smiled, feeling proud of both Connor and himself, simply because _so_ much had changed since their very first encounter in a church like this one. No matter how much he disliked religion and everything connected to it, even he had to admit that a house of worship had brought them together almost like fate, and for this, he was grateful. Every single time he entered a church with Connor now he couldn’t help but remember that important day, like a flashback or broken record, and he never wanted it to stop.

He smiled and tried to focus on the search then, slowing down a bit to read the inscription on the large arch above the altar, squinting his eyes a little.

 _HE WHO EATS MY FLESH AND DRINKS MY BLOOD HAS ETERNAL LIFE_ , it read. Daryl scoffed after a moment, thinking the quote to be kind of ironic these days, considering all the man-eating walking dead monsters out there. He shook his head and followed Rick down the aisle, shooting a quick look at Connor and Murphy once again. Now he couldn’t help but wonder why the hell they were so obsessed with this freaky, stupid religion, why anyone would think any good of it after everything that had happened. But then the MacManus twins disappeared in a back room and the hunter figured that they’d never really give him an answer that would please him, so he let it drop and fully focused on the task ahead now.

There were countless cans piled up around the altar. Most of them empty, some of them still closed. It definitely looked like the priest’s stash. Daryl’s stomach automatically clenched and growled at the sight, reminding him once again how little he’d eaten lately because of this damned autumn. Rick was busy checking out the cans so the hunter focused on the altar instead, lowering his crossbow a little so he could get a better view, grab some stuff if need be.

There were books and notes all over the altar, biblical inscriptions, random scribblings, the whole religious package. Daryl found himself lazily leafing through one of the notebooks, frowning a little when he realized that it was actually a handwritten bible. In big fat letters it read **_THOU SHALT NOT KILL_** on one of the pages, under the chapter title ‘Exodus’. Even he knew that those were the ten commandments, carefully handwritten, with the most prominent lines looking almost judging.

Daryl raised his head once more and looked at the door Connor had disappeared through, wondering. He just couldn’t help it, everything in here reminded him of the twins, made him think about them whether he wanted to or not. Religion and Connor had just always been a package deal since day one. He knew that the Irishman knew this whole thing pretty much by heart, took it to his heart. And after all the shit lately….the hunter let out a little sigh and closed the notebook shut, moving the other books and paper a bit to hide it. There was no need for Connor to find that shit right now, read those judging words. It would just fuck him up again. Get his mind all twisted up and in a bunch over his doings, and most importantly and although he knew it was selfish, _them._

Daryl didn’t want his friend to read his stupid bible now. It would just probably make him even more homophobic and reluctant again, adding up to the general sudden absence of intimacy. He knew that the church and religion was important to his friend and that they made him happy, but the hunter couldn't help but dislike them even more. Not just because of his fucked up past with his father, but also because they put a spoke in their relationship wheel.

Daryl let out a quiet little sigh and turned around to focus on Rick and their finishing up the search instead.

* * *

Connor and Murphy were slowly and carefully entering the sacristry, prepared to shoot or stab anyone who could jump them during their search. The room itself was small and didn't offer much hiding space, so upon entering they almost immediately suspected it to be empty. Connor made his way over to the only other two doors in the room, getting closer to try and make out any noises inside. Murphy watched him for a short moment and then came closer to grab the handle of the left door, looking at Connor and then nodding when he took the other. The older MacManus soundlessly counted up to three and his twin moved back and forth a little, radiating nervous energy until the countdown was over. Then they both simultaneously pulled the doors open, only to face… a small storage space and a toilet.

Connor snorted and Murphy chuckled a little, as they both relaxed and turned around again to curiously let their gazes wander.

“Looks like there’s no evil scumbags hiding in a cupboard ‘round here” Murphy muttered while his sibling approached the wall on the other side of the room, where all sorts of children’s drawings of biblical happenings were displayed.

“Aye, looks like it” Connor said and even gently took one of them. The drawings showed childishly drawn burning bushes and trees, with gentle written letters that spelled out ’40 years of wandering’. This place really was all about writing and scriptures, almost forcing him to ponder, and for a short moment, Connor did wonder what had happened to the children who had drawn these images.

Murphy copied his twin and looked at some other pictures and art on the walls, focusing on a wooden piece that depicted the last supper. He then turned his head slightly to the right and saw another image with a quote, staring at it with a little frown as he just froze and tried to focus, hoping that he could eventually read it better. But the brain injury was still giving him a hard time, let him see the letters all scrambled and wrong. He just stood and stared for a while, until Connor walked up to him and came to a halt behind him, reading it out loud for him.

“ _And let us not grow weary of doing good. For in due season we will reap if we do not give up. Galatians 6:9_ ” he said flatly and Murphy turned around to look at him. He then looked back at the quote and scoffed a little.

“Know what it says” he said stubbornly and Connor chuckled a little.

“Aye. I _know_ ” he said, knowing exactly that Murphy was lying.

“Maybe you should take it ta heart, that one” the younger twin then said and turned around again to keep searching, while Connor snorted a bit angrily.

“I _am_ doing good. We are.”

“’m not talkin about tha part of the quote, y’know” Murphy said but then decided to drop the conversation and focused on the drawings instead. He then let his gaze wander a final time, but nothing looked dangerous or suspicious.

“It kinda really looks normal ‘round here, doesn’ it?” the younger twin eventually muttered, and Connor nodded once again with a little frown he kept scanning and searching the room a little longer than his brother just to make sure.

“Looks like ye really got yer sign, Con” Murphy then said and smiled, looking around once again.

Connor did the same without a smile but then chewed on his lips.

“Yeah..I don’ know, Murph. I saw some weird scribbling outside on te wall. ‘ _You will burn for this’._ ”

“Burn fer what?” Murphy asked with a little frown.

“Dat’s te question, brother dear” Connor said and then walked over to check out one last cupboard.

“I’m sure our dear father got some bodies in his cellar by now. Everybody does these days” Connor answered and Murphy huffed.

“See, this is what I meant. Maybe ye should take te not giving up part t’heart.”

“I’m not giving up, I’m being careful. And so far, being careful kept us alive and evil scumbags dead” Connor just said and Murphy rolled his eyes a little.

“Everybody can’t be fuckin evil.”

Connor took a deep breath and just shrugged. Murphy scratched his chin with a little angry frown but ended up shrugging, too. The older of the two felt a bit bad though, so he eventually tried to lighten the mood a bit.

“Well, maybe he really is just a priest with a lotta luck. At least we haven’t found any scumbags ‘round here so far, yer right” Connor said, sounding a bit optimistic, forcing himself once again to get over it, to be more like his twin.

“Or Sam fer that matter” Murphy mumbled though and looked out the window, pondering. This made Connor look at him, and the older twin did feel even worse about his previous pessimism, so he approached him a little more and nudged his shoulder with a gentle smile.

“Aye, but we found a church right around here, just like I wanted. I got my sign, now you get yours. There’s a chance that she’ll stumble across it, too.”

“Aye, it’s a church. Clean, nice, quiet church” Murphy said and looked around once more, until he nudged Connor back.

“Just like in the old days, aye” Connor agreed and Murphy snorted, although he couldn’t remember. The he got a little mischievous and looked at his twin playfully.

“Maybe ye’ll finally get ta confess all yer terrible sins here.”

“Harhar” Connor said angrily and nudged Murphy right back, turning it into a little scuffle until they let go.

Connor was just about to leave the room to get back to the group when Murphy spoke up though, still staying in place.

“D’ye miss it?” he asked and Connor turned around curiously to look at him.

“Our old life? When we went ta church t’gether every day?” Murphy went on and Connor let out a little sigh, leaning back against the wall.

“Of course I do, what kinda question even is tha, Murph.”

“I don’ know, yer talk about not praying or confessing much lately just got me thinkin” the younger MacManus said, looking at the table to his right as he wiped some dust away with his fingers.

“It’s exactly the reason why I’d give ye a big fucking yes as answer ta that one.”

Murphy snorted as well and nodded.

“Good.”

They both smiled a tiny bit and then got going, until Connor spoke up yet again, on their way out.

“I mean at least back then we had fuckin Eastwood movies!”

Murphy chuckled a little and gave Connor a grin, happy to hear that he was more like his old self.

They exited the church to get back to the rest of their group, having found absolutely nothing. They all knew that this should be a great outcome, that they could relax after the thing with Terminus, but Terminus and the previous happenings in Woodbury were exactly the reason why they felt so wary and uneasy about the lack of findings nevertheless. Rick handed the keys back to Gabriel, who was once again chuckling nervously and trying to lift the mood and ease the tension.

“I spent months here without stepping out the front door, so if you found someone inside, well…it would’ve been surprising” he said, which made Connor frown once again, although he tried to stay charismatic and charming, probably being the most extroverted and socially cunning out of the group, although only on the outside.

“Ye’ve really been all by yerself through this? Why?”

“I keep to myself. People are just as dangerous as the dead these days, don’t you think?” Gabriel answered, rubbing his obviously sweaty hands on his pants. Daryl, who had exited the church by now, too and was coming to a halt next to Connor, spoke up.  
  
“No, people are worse” he said, shooting his friend a look at that remark, fixing his eyes on his scars and still healing last bunch of bruises from their previous ordeal. No matter how uneasy he felt about Connor and his views lately, on that he had to agree. _Some_ people were worse. He had seen what they had done to their loved ones. To Merle. To Hershel. To Connor. Even after so many weeks, he still couldn’t get that image of bloody Connor on his knees with a knife to his throat and the blood everywhere out of his head. _That_ had been entirely done by _people_. And while he was on that train of thought, he couldn’t exactly skip the cannibals they’d met recently either.

“I know” Gabriel said quietly, swallowing.

“Your church looks pretty neat and tidy, no signs of looting or vandalism” Rick noted and Gabriel nodded.

“Just like I said, I’ve kept to myself. As you can see I’m fairly well hidden here in the house of the lord. It’s always been a bit off the grid, the silence..makes you feel closer to the lord..be one with his creations in nature..”

The others were already losing interest in his talk again, so he got to the point.

“I don’t even know how bad some places must look now. I haven’t been beyond the stream near my church more than a few times since it all started. That was the furthest I’ve gone before today.”

“How’d you survive here for so long? Where did your supplies come from if you didn’t go far out?” Rick asked, narrowing his eyes. Gabriel moved out of his way a little and looked back at the cans, just like Murphy, who turned his head to look inside the church to sneak a peek as well.  
  
“Luck. Our annual canned food drive. Things fell apart right after we finished it. It’s just me.”

“Still got a pretty big stash for bein’ all by yourself” Daryl noted in regards to all the cans by the altar. Gabriel looked at him, once again seeming very intimidated, and it was obvious that he liked Daryl the least of all. He looked back and forth between Daryl and the rest of the group, momentarily fixing his eyes on the somewhat more trustworthy MacManus twins until he suddenly chuckled nervously and started talking again.

“Well, maybe I’m lying about everything. Maybe I’ve led you here just so I can steal all your squirrels and have them to myself, too” the priest answered and the group visibly tensed and looked up and around, taking it as a threat, especially Rick and Abraham. But Gabriel just looked around nervously once again, like he hadn’t meant for it to go down this way. He swallowed and then fixed his eyes on Connor and Murphy instead, hoping to set it right.  
  
“Members of my flock often told me that my sense of humor leaves much to be desired” he explained, trying to give it off as simple humor. Connor raised an eyebrow, Murphy cocked one, too, but seemed more amused by it than anything else. He just couldn’t take the priest as a threat. It was in his guts somehow, his instincts telling him just that.

“Yeah it does” Daryl growled, making Murphy only smirk even more. Connor, sharp and attentive as ever, spoke up in the meantime.

“Where’s the rest of yer flock? Yer congregation?”

Gabriel just stared, the look on his face becoming deeply saddened and almost unreadable.

“What do you think?”

“Why did you bring us here?” Rick asked and stepped forward, eyeing the priest once more. Gabriel stepped back a little and continued to look tense and scared, then he eventually answered, his voice still shaking.

“I need your help.”

* * *

“We found a short bus out back. It don’t run but I bet we could fix it. Father here says he doesn’t want it. So we found ourselves some transport. We don’t need to waste any more time in the middle of nowhere. You understand what’s at stake here, right” Abraham said, obviously still very angry about how the group just wouldn’t jump and run at his calling, but instead, was now settling in inside the church. The weaker ones of their group sat down on the benches or took a look around the church while the fighters of the group got ready for the task ahead.

“Yes, I do” Rick said, not exactly sounding interested as he walked down the aisle to talk to Gabriel again, who was talking to the MacManus twins.

“We gotta keep going” Abraham kept pressing, and when they passed Michonne, she spoke up, too.

“Now that we can take a breath?”  
  
“We take a breath, we slow down. Shit inevitably goes down” Abraham answered her but she and Rick ignored him, so Daryl, who had been walking next to Rick, spoke up next.

“We slow down anyway. I checked the bus out. Battery and spark plugs are goners. And it ain’t got enough oil or gas.”

“Then we go out and find that, spend time searching for something that’s worth it and actually out there!” Abraham went on and wouldn’t let go, so Michonne got up and got walking alongside with Rick and Daryl as well.

“We need supplies first, no matter what we do next.”

Rick nodded.

“That’s right. Water, food, ammunition” he said and then focused on Connor instead now that they had reached them. He had somewhat become the spokesperson between the group and the priest.  
  
“So what’s the deal?”

“Well, there’s no food or supplies left fer us around the church. Our dear father here spent his days scavenging the close area, but as it turns out there’s some left overs. Go ahead” he said and nudged Gabriel to get him to move forward a little. Gabriel, still nervous and helpless, spoke up.

“If you need food, I would have been willing to share. But my supplies ran out a few weeks ago and I have nothing to share. I need your help for a place nearby. I haven’t been able to get to the supplies there. It’s the local food bank. It served the entire community around here. You get in there, I’m more than willing to share with you people.”

“What kept you from turnin the place over yourself? Looters?” Daryl asked as he placed himself next to Connor and grew curious.

“No. It’s overrun” Gabriel said, swallowing, then looked at Murphy. “You’ve seen me out there. I’m no good around those things. I couldn’t...”

“How many?” Rick asked and Gabriel looked at him instead.

“A dozen or so? Maybe more.”

Rick nodded and looked up, fixing his eyes on Connor, Murphy and Daryl. The latter snorted once and nudged his friend.

“Ain’t gonna be no problem for us. We go out there, check the place out, leprechauns take care of the dead ones, I can look for car parts, ammo…”

“How far is that town of yers?” Murphy asked and Gabriel looked at him next.

“It’s not very far from here. It’s within walking distance. Half an hour maybe.”

Murphy nodded and then looked at Connor, nudging him a bit as well.

“Maybe Sam made it over there, crashed fer the night in one of the houses. Maybe she’s waiting fer us there, found shelter, food… We gotta go.”

Connor nodded with a reassuring “Aye, we will”, and then looked at Rick.

Rick nodded as well and then let his gaze wander along the interior of the church.

“Yeah. We can handle a dozen.”

“Good. I’ll draw you a map” Gabriel said and tried to walk away, but Rick grabbed him by his arm to stop him.

“No. You don’t need to. You’re coming with us” he said and Gabriel looked quite taken aback, until he smiled nervously and shook his head.

“ I’m not gonna be of any help. You…you saw me, I told you. I’m no good around those things” he repeated and gave Murphy and Connor an almost pleading look. Murphy chewed on his lips and gently looked in Connor’s direction, waiting for him to speak up, but the older MacManus wouldn’t. Instead, he just moved his hands through his hair and looked down, wondering what the fuck he should be thinking or saying, too.

“Rick…” was all he ended up with, but trailed off in the end.

It was true that they still couldn’t quite trust Gabriel, and it would be a good test to check his abilities, his intentions and skills out there, if he really was the real deal and everything he said. But if he really was the real deal then they would be putting a harmless and almost innocent priest at risk here, something that had made his blood boil in the past like that one time a priest had been murdered because of them, and still made his blood boil even to this day.

But it was a twisted situation, nowadays, during the apocalypse, so for the first time really, he decided to step back a little and let Rick handle it, knowing that if shit went down, he would be ready no matter what, whether it was to fight the priest’s evil ambush back in town or to fight walkers in order to protect him in case he was innocent.

But then it was Daryl who spoke up, once again speaking out what Connor had been thinking anyway, too.

“Rick. He’s just gonna be some burden. Ain’t no way I’m watching out and babysitting some priest, too, while we’re out there. Unknown territory with walkers ‘round is dangerous as it is. What’s he gonna do here, call ahead t’warn his buddies over there?” he muttered, coming closer to their leader, but Rick stayed stubborn and got himself ready to announce his plan to the rest of the group.

“He’s coming with us” he simply stated and Daryl shot Connor a look. The Irishman raised his eyebrows a little and shrugged in defeat, a silent conversation going on between them with the hunter stating that he didn’t like this shit at all, and Connor responding with a _we’ll deal with it as it comes_ shrug. 

* * *

 

The town looked just like any other place they had been to during the past year. Broken down cars, some broken windows, dirt and leaves everywhere, with the asphalt of the streets slowly cracking and giving way to the grass underneath it in the still somewhat hot sun. The group that consisted of Connor, Murphy, Daryl, Rick, Abraham, Gabriel, Michonne and Sasha was slowly making its way down an alley pretty close to the center of Jackson, both on the lookout and ready to fight walkers or people, but also curious.

Gabriel was guiding them down the small street, stepping over trash and occasionally stumbling as he chatted with Abraham about the location, where they could find parts and other things they needed for the truck for his precious trip to Washington. Connor was currently talking to Rick so Daryl decided to walk next to Murphy, chat with him.

“So you’n your bro must be real happy t’have another member in your biblebangin club, huh” he started the conversation, making Murphy snort and look at him.

“Maybe ye should just try believing a little instead of bein a dick about it 24/7” Murphy offered, but Daryl just scoffed in disgust. He looked straight ahead and pressed his lips together.

“All this hopin and praying ain’t done no one any good as far as I can tell” the hunter just growled, remembering Merle and Hershel.

“As far as I can tell, it kept Con alive, made him find ye, him find me, and this fella in front of us got saved by us because he prayed fer it. Just a matter of perspective.”

“Yeah, got a point” the hunter eventually mumbled and then let out a little sigh.

“Never thought I’d say this, but I think outta the two of you leprechauns, I think ‘m startin t’like yah and your attitude more, lately.”

Murphy chuckled a little and then shrugged.

“As long as ye don’ develop a crush on me, too. Angry redneck hillbillies are my number one pet peeve.”

Daryl snorted angrily.

“Keep your trap shut and don’t be disgusting, douchebag” he countered and Murphy grinned and chuckled a little. Connor turned his head shortly to look at them, curious what Murphy’s laughing was about, but eventually he focused on his chat with Rick again. Daryl, having noticed Connor’s look, eventually got serious again and remembered their earlier talks at the sight of his friend.

“Speakin ‘bout perspective. He tell you about the car?”

“What ‘bout it exactly?” Murphy said and Daryl finally looked at him again.

“I saw some fresh tire tracks again earlier. Pretty freakin close t’our camp once again, too.”

“Seriously? Shite..” the younger MacManus said, wondering.

“Maybe they really took that girl of yours. Got no idea who they are and what they want, but we better be damned careful” Daryl muttered and Murphy nodded a little, biting at his fingernails.

“I know. I was thinkin the same thing. It’s been two days and just…nothin.”

“We gonna find her though. Ain’t the first time we lost people and got them back, emo kid.”

“I know” Murphy muttered as they walked around the corner.

“What was so funny?” Connor asked, having let himself fall back by now so he could catch up with his best friend and brother. Murphy and Daryl automatically parted a bit more so Connor could walk between them. Murphy almost immediately smirked right then and there, pulling Connor right in and making him smirk, too, although he didn’t even know why yet.

“None of your leprechaun jokes, that’s for sure” Daryl almost immediately said and Murphy just chuckled once again.

“Ye fuckin wish. I know yer laughing on the inside.Yer doin it all the time.”

“Yeah, _you_ wish” Daryl said with a snort and Connor only grinned even more, taking it as a tease.

“Oh, do I?” he said with a low voice, a deadly tease that _maybe_ got Daryl a little heated up on the inside, but he stayed serious and typically angry redneck on the outside.

“Jesus, get a fuckin room” Murphy said almost immediately and a bit angrily as he walked a bit faster to get away, sensing that he didn’t exactly want be around their fucked up form of bickering and teasing with obvious undertones. He walked a bit faster instead to start chatting with Michonne and Sasha, making Connor chuckle.

“What’d you ‘n Rick talk about?” Daryl asked after a moment. He looked at Connor and was actually happy about how well Murphy always handled their alone time. Fuck it, he liked the fucker more and more.

“Just Sergeant Washington again” Connor said and suddenly and angrily hit the side of his neck, cursing and looking at his fingers where a smashed bloody mosquito was, hissing.

“Tell ye what though, maybe I _will_ come with those people just ta get te fuck away from yer fuckin redneck country. I’m getting fuckin sick of those mosquitos, insects and all tha fuckin heat around here. I mean what even is it, September? Why te fuck are those fuckers still around and why the fuck is it _still_ so fuckin hot ‘round here” he ranted, obviously angered by the mosquito bite.

Daryl smirked and chuckled a little. Connor wiped his hands on his jeans and then got serious again.

“Rick doesn’ know yet if they’re goin. He wants ta test big ginger and te priest a little more.”

“And you’re positive you don’t wanna come no matter what” Daryl said, looking at Rick, Michonne, Sasha.

“Well, I know ‘m not gonna come anywhere close ta a working research facility” Connor said but then let out a little sigh. “But I look around here and keep thinkin, what te fuck are we gonna do here ‘n Heatgia. First of all…mosquitos” Connor said angrily and Daryl snickered once again, but then Connor kept talking. “Maybe we’ll join the ride a lil and go the same direction fer a while. I mean, ‘s closer ta home and it’s definitely cooler up there. And it’s actually good ta be ‘round the group again fer a while, too, don’tche think? I mean two days with them and we’re on our way to a fuckin food bank.”

“Yeah” Daryl said with a little smile and Connor looked at him.

“What about ye? You wanna go?’n by that I mean really you and yer opinion, not what others yer gonna follow.”

The hunter shrugged and chewed on his lips a little, looking down.

“Hell, I don’t know, man. I told yah. I ain’t ever been outta Georgia” he admitted and eventually looked at Connor. “Just stick ‘round you guys, I suppose.”

Connor almost immediately beamed a grin at Daryl.

“Y’mean me, right? Aw, look at her.”

“Shut up” Daryl said, shoving Connor away a little, but he was secretly smirking, too.

Connor eventually let out a little sigh and looked to the side.

“Let’s just wait it out a bit more until we decide.”

“You know Rick and the others ain’t gonna letcha get killed up there, right? Maybe we really should just stick t’gether” Daryl offered and Connor scratched the back of his neck a little.

“Truth be told, ‘m not entirely sure ‘bout that” he muttered and Daryl frowned.

“Sure ‘bout what?”

“Rick ‘n the others not letting me or Murph get killed in favor of a cure. Army guy and mullet’d definitely go ahead if they’re the real deal.”

“Maybe they would, but ain’t no way Rick or the others would do such shit” Daryl growled a little angrily and fixed his eyes on their leader and the others. “Yah family” he added and Connor snorted a little. “Aye. And the rest’s family, too. If I were Rick and had two young kids in a fucked up world like this, I know what I’d choose fer them. Certainly not te Irishman I can tell ye.”

“They ain’t like that” Daryl insisted and Connor let out another sigh.

“Let’s just wait it out and see how it all plays out, aye” he said and patted Daryls shoulder as a peace offering and sign that he wanted to drop the talk about that topic. A moment later they walked around another corner and suddenly and already found themselves in front of the food bank, that sure looked abandoned like the rest of the town on the outside, but they knew very well by now to never trust any such sight. The group automatically gripped their weapons tighter and focused on Gabriel, who had slowed down and then stopped close to the dusty windows and doors that were surprisingly still in tact.

“We’re here. This was the food bank. It served the whole county. All the cans from my church were gonna end up here” Gabriel said and pointed at the door and window that read ‘ _Family Services – food bank & thrift shop”_.

“Or maybe they were already here and you’re just bullshitting us” Daryl muttered and walked up to the windows to have a look inside. Connor rolled his eyes a little but decided to do the same on the other side, but he couldn’t really see anything. He was almost growing more suspicious as well when he suddenly heard them though, from the inside, the throaty and dry groaning and gasping of walkers trapped inside.

Connor raised his hand a little to signal the rest of the group.

“We got a few dead fellas in here. I can hear them” he informed them and Murphy naturally positioned himself up front, knowing that he and his brother were the least likely to be attacked because of their immunity. Connor turned his head a little more so he could catch a glimpse of the interior by the door, and when it looked clear, he gave his twin a little nod and Murphy pulled the door handle – only that the door wouldn’t give. He almost ran against the door and Daryl snorted a little, receiving a pissed look from his doppelganger.

“Wait, I got the keys..” Gabriel said and clumsily handed them over to Murphy, as if he only just now remembered that he had them.

“Guess that explains why the place doesn’t look looted yet” Connor said with a little content smirk as he looked at Daryl and the others. He then walked over to Murphy and shoved him to the side so he could be the one to open the door. He then quickly entered the building first, followed by Murphy, Daryl, the others and then Rick who pulled Gabriel inside as well, much to the priest’s discomfort.

The place certainly looked run down after one year of abandonment, but the sheer sight of things paled in comparison to the smell. It smelled of mold, filth but most prominently of decay and death, giving its new occupants away half a mile away, if it weren’t for the closed doors and windows. It was a bit strange at first to not run into the undead right away, and the group certainly found it alarming and dangerous, thinking it to be a trap set by Gabriel, that this was the moment where he was going to come out with his cunning plan with an ambush.

But no such thing would happen. Instead, Connor and Murphy and then the rest of the group found themselves approaching the center of the room where a massive hole in the floor and ceiling above became visible. Sounds of splashing water, movement and growling emerged from the hole just like the stench, giving its epicenter away. Daryl raised his head a little to inspect the ceiling, observing that some massive water damage had caused the roof to collapse and give way to the elements, collecting a pool of water in the basement.

At some point during the year of abandonment, the walking corpses had caused the floor to collapse under their weight and the water, leaving them trapped in the cellar.

With the food.

Connor and Murphy pulled a face in disgust at the same time, as they carefully approached the hole in the ground to get a better view. They could see all the canned goods and bottled beverage on the shelves downstairs, stacked up and rising high between the walking corpses in the water. The walkers looked even worse than they normally did, bloated and soaked from the water, covered with even more mold and disease. A few of them raised their heads when Murphy groaned in disgust and moved, making the already moldy floor boards creak underneath his feet.

“Jesus, ‘s smells like shit” he growled and Connor snorted once, subconsciously imitating Murphy’s movement as he shielded his mouth and nose a little, too.

“Worse than shit” the older brother agreed.

“ Like old sewers filled with diarrhea fram a whole stadium filled with guys after a St. Paddy’s night out on a huge fuckin bender” Murphy added and Connor chuckled a little, only to pull a face once more and shake his head in disgust. He turned around to wave for the rest of their group to come closer.

“It’s alright. Priest was right. About a dozen, two dozen bloaters trapped down there” he said and the others carefully did come closer. Rick came the closest to the edge and inspected the walkers. Murphy, having seen that Rick was able to get closer to the edge than they were, quickly imitated their leader and leaned further forward to get a better view, but then Connor angrily pulled him back so he wouldn’t fall over and right into the pit.

“Fuckin watch it” the older MacManus complained and Murphy shrugged him off.

“Wha, ‘s not like we’re not gotta go down there in a minute” he said stubbornly but then only pulled a face again, as his own words sank in.

“Yer not seriously telling me that we’re gonna eat that shit when we get it.”

Rick knelt down by the edge and inspected the cans and supplies a little closer.

“The top shelves look just fine. The food’s welded and sealed up. We’re gonna be alright.”

“We need these supplies” Michonne said and Daryl came closer as well, still inspecting the holes in the roof.

“Water’s been comin down for a while. Soaked these guys up real good. They’re even slower and dumber than the rest outside. Sure ain’t been interested in those cans for a while” the hunter said and then came closer to Connor.

“What’d you think?”

“I think Murph’n I can handle them just fine, yer right. They’re slow and clumsy as fuck in te water” he muttered but then fixed his eyes on Abraham.

“But ‘m not exactly keen on Sergeant Washington seeing that shit. Just like I said, I don’ want strangers ta fuckin know about our little fuckin advantage.”

“Jesus fuckin Christ, they’ve put their fuckin slime fuckin everywhere like Flubber. Rick, are ye fer real? Maybe we should just hit up te rest of the town, see if there’s…” Murphy said in the meantime.

“I’ve already been through most of the houses. What I didn’t take…others took with them. Trust me. This is the only place left. And you can see why. I couldn’t go down and…” Gabriel said, staring at the walking corpses, looking mortified, scared and pale just like when they had found him on the rock.

“Can’t fuckin blame ye” Murphy muttered and then took a deep breath, obviously getting himself ready both mentally and physically, moving back and forth a little.

“Alright. Me’n Con, we’re gonna…”  
  
“MURPH” Connor suddenly said, getting anxious and sounding alarmed. He wouldn’t let his sibling finish and instead instructed him to come closer to him and Daryl. Murphy did come closer while Rick, Michonne, Sasha and Abraham contemplated how to get to the supplies.

“Don’t go fuckin bragging about us in fronta big guy, jaysus” Connor said angrily and hit Murphy’s healthy shoulder a little. Murphy gave him a reproachful and angry little “Ow” and then shoved Connor right back.

“Fuck ye, yer not telling me we’re gonna take all those people down with us ta have them be an easy fuckin walker happy meal when we can just go down there and grab dat shit” Murphy said angrily and Connor let out an angry sigh, looking down as he massaged the bridge of his nose.

“No, I know, I know, but it’s just…”

“Ye saw te place, it’s dark, it’s confined and the water’ll make us move just as slow. It’s no use risking our people fer..”

“ _Murph_ , I know. Alright?!” Connor whisper-shouted angrily and then glared at Murphy.

“I’m just saying that we should be fuckin careful, too. Ye know what happened in fuckin Augusta.”

“Hey, we’re gonna go down no matter what” Daryl threw in and grabbed Connor’s shoulder a little to get him to face him. “I keep tellin’ yah. No matter how it looks, these assholes could still turn on yah from one sec to the next. We shouldn’t be playin on this. You already got bit twice. Besides, shit’s gonna take forever with just you two guys handing stuff out from down there. We got the numbers. Gonna be much faster if we all work on this shit together. Besides, ‘m goin down no matter what.”

“Daryl” Rick suddenly called out from behind them and made all three turn around to face their leader.

“Listen up” the former policeman said and then focused on the rest of the group again.

“You take your crossbow, shoot walkers within sight from up here. We take out as many as we can. The water sped up their decay, it should be easier to get through the skull without you losing too many arrows. Don’t use your guns unless you have to. As soon as Daryl is done, we’ll use the shelves to go down, take out the rest of them together” Rick said and then got up again. “We’ll create a chain so we can hand out the supplies fast” he instructed and then walked over to Gabriel to hand him a knife.

“You’re coming down with us” he then said and Gabriel visibly paled even more, breathing harder.

“What, but I…”

“It’s time for you to learn, don’t you think? If you want us to trust you, you help us. Pull your own weight. It’s that simple” Rick said and then gave Daryl a nod to let him know that he was supposed to get started on his part. Daryl threw Connor a little look at first but then proceeded, walking towards the edge of the hole with his crossbow drawn. He didn’t have too many arrows, only seven, and wanted to make them last, so he took his time to aim and make every shot count. Michonne, who was close to the edge as well, knelt down and struck her Katana down vertically when a walker came within reach. She spliced the undead’s head in half, the blade going through as if the scull were made of butter.

Connor, figuring that he had been pretty shitty and egoistic enough up until now, decided to finally step up since the priest’s fear and inability to fight and stay tough seemed genuine.

“Rick…he showed us te way t’this place, he told the truth about his church and the walkers here…don’t ye think he’s proven himself enough fer today?” he said, leaning in to their leader a bit and trying to sound reasonable and calming.

“Do you want him to stay up here all by himself with us down there? I’m thinking that’s just what he wants. He’ll come with us.”

“No, I’m talking about leavin him up here with someone ta watch his ass. I’ll tell Murph ta watch out. We’re gonna need a lookout anyway in case more walkers come in fram outside.”

“We need you. Both. Down there with us. That’s my last saying. He’s hiding something. And we’re gonna find out what. People show their real faces when their lives depend on it. Now get out of the way“ Rick said and simply walked past Connor. Daryl was finished shooting by now and already on his way down the shelves along with Murphy and the rest of the group, and much to Connor’s surprise and before he could say anything else, Gabriel actually followed them on his own, although he did look terrified.

Connor turned around a final time to fix his eyes on the door that led back outside, cursing, and when he looked back he could already see that Abraham was the last one to go down, leaving him all alone up here. Murphy was calling out for him soon after, and after looking back one final time, Connor eventually got moving, too.

“Jesus fuckin Christ, this is completely fucking stupid” he growled, incredibly pissed and angry by now because this whole plan was bound to fail. He got hold of his Beretta and knife and then awkwardly climbed down the hole and shelves, too, cursing once more once he landed in the stinking, slimy water.

He didn’t get to ponder on his disgust too much because things were already going down all around him. He awkwardly tried to make his way past the floating corpses of walkers that had been shot by Daryl from up top, trying to adjust to the darkness of the rear sections of the sublevels that were not illuminated by the sunlight from the holes in the roof above. His group was gathered in such a darker rear section and already fighting some of the walkers, using the shelves as cover as they stabbed and shoved their way through.

There were far more walkers down here than they had expected, just like it was even harder to wade through the water because it was also deeper than they had expected. The slimy almost thick liquid reached all the way up to Connor’s waist and the ground was invisible through the muddy water, making walking and navigation just harder. Because there were boxes and all sorts of things scattered across the ground, making him and the rest of the group stumble and trip more than once.

“Murph!” Connor called out almost immediately but soon saw his brother wildly slow-jogging all over the place as he tried to keep most of the walkers away from the group that was trying to use the shelves as an advantage against the undead. Just like Connor he was stumbling and tripping more than once until he full on fell into the water, barely managing to keep his head above waterline.

“Don’t let that shit get inta yer fuckin mouth and nose!” Connor yelled angrily and moved faster to get close to his sibling, so he could start stabbing and killing the walkers, too. Just like the many times before he got consumed by intense rage almost suddenly and with an overwhelming force. He _hated_ this plan and how it was playing out, he _hated_ how _stupid_ Rick had been to pull it through like this, _hated_ the others for just blindly following these orders.

Although they were fighting and killing and seemed to be fairly in control of the situation together, as a force, he now had to agree that it would have been way better for him and Murphy to just go down here and take care of this shit on their own, taking their time to kill and move forward instead of doing it as clumsily and rushed as they were doing it now, pointlessly risking more lives than they had to, without anyone on the lookout. He cursed himself for being kind of selfish before, how he had wanted to keep their immunity secret from Abraham by putting the others in danger the way it was happening now.

“Daryl!” he called out next but he wasn’t exactly surprised not to hear an answer from his friend, but he did catch a flash of dirty white wings on a black leather jacket somewhere in the dark further up front to his left.

“Sasha, watch out!” Murphy suddenly yelled right next to him and darted forward in the meantime, snapping Connor out of it just for a moment. Murphy had long since managed to get up again and was soaking wet, but it didn’t stop him from coming to the woman’s aid. A walker had managed to pin her to the wall and she was struggling to fight him off, and the others were too busy fighting their own fair share of walkers to take care of it and help her. Murphy was on the chase and threw himself at the walker to bury his knife in her skull, slipping on her soaked and bloated skin which made him groan in disgust.

Connor’s attention was drawn away from the scene a second later when he heard the priest cry out for help, too, saw him pressed to the far end of a wall with the look on his face distorted with sheer terror and fear, as sweat and tears were running down his cheeks. He was clutching to the cross around his neck and held his hands pressed together in what looked like despaired prayer as a female, especially disgusting looking walker was slowly approaching him though the dirty water.

“We have to get Gabriel!” Rick was yelling somewhere, but it was obvious that neither he nor the rest of the group were going to get to the priest in time, except for Daryl, who had managed to slip away from behind the shelves and was making his way over there, too, with a couple of walkers dangerously close to his back.

“Fuckin watch out!” Connor yelled and tried to move even faster, but the water and trash was making it incredibly hard to run. Daryl had managed to kill the walker that had been about to kill the priest and was now checking on him, since it was obvious and very strange to see Gabriel so devastated and completely beside himself from one second to the next, not just because of the horrors down here it seemed, but also because of this particular walker.

He was oblivious to the still moving and floating corpse very close to him, behind him, just like all the others that were losing interest in the rest of the group by the shelves and were coming closer to him instead, attracted by the priest’s frantic sobbing.

“Daryl! Move! Right!” Connor yelled when he got closer and Daryl immediately did so without turning, barely managing to dodge a bite from the half floating walker behind him that had been just about to bury its slimy rotten teeth in his elbow. Connor came jumping in, using his knife in motion to ram it down once his feet hit the slippery ground again, burying the blade deep in the walker’s skull.

Daryl was breathing harshly to his left and tackling the next walker against the wall to stab him, too, but there were more coming still, and Connor almost immediately lost his shit and grabbed the priest to shove him over to what looked like had been the former stairs leading to this storage basement.

“Get te fuck outta here now! Yer just gonna get people fuckin killed down here!” he spat and then moved over to Daryl, half throwing himself between his friend and a walker to cover him just in time. He shoved the walker back a little but the water lessened the force, making her stumble only a little until she came at them again. Connor stumbled because of the attack and fell back slightly, his back connecting hard with Daryl’s and then making the hunter stumble as well because of it, trapping them in a corner as the walker continued to come at them, pressing against the Irishman.

“The hell are you doing?!” Daryl snapped and tried to move away, tried to shove Connor away to stop him from pressing him into the corner with his cheek and temple pressed to the slippery wet and moldy stone, but all fighting was useless, since the walker still kept coming, and Connor couldn’t stab her because his knife was trapped between them under water. He tried to shove her once more but another walker was coming as well, pressing against her too, making it impossible to move. All the Irishman could do was repeatedly stab her stomach, trying to get her to back up this way, but it only made the general mayhem worse, because now her bloated intestines started dropping out of the cuts, floating on the water, making the stench even worse and Connor’s hands even more slippery.

“Saving yer fucking ass!” the Irishman roared as a reply but could hardly breathe from the added weight that was pressed against him, as more and more walkers seemed to trap them in that corner. Daryl was left completely immobile since now the force and mass of more and more people was pressing him against the wall, almost crushing him into the corner as he began to struggle. One of Connor’s elbows was pressing painfully into his back, making him grunt in pain. He appreciated the fact that his friend was using his own body as shield to protect him from the walkers, but at the same time he absolutely hated it because this way he was left unable to fight or do anything at all, and the fact that he couldn’t even see what was going on because he had his back turned on everything didn’t exactly help either.

Connor let out a low growl and then half shouted angrily once, trying to shove again and burying his elbow even further into Daryl’s back, but the water and the sheer weight of the walkers made it impossible to get them to move away, and there were even more coming now. Just for a moment, Daryl’s breathing did speed up and he was slightly terrified, picturing all sorts of crap like one of the walkers going and being underwater to bite his leg now that he was unable to fight them off, or even worse, them suddenly starting to bite and attack Connor again just so they could get to him, and the noises behind him didn’t make it any easier.

A moment later he heard a loud noise and the splashing of water like one of the shelves had toppled over behind them, and judging by all the noise his group was making he was sure they had been the source. He hoped that they weren’t getting overrun now, too, that this was it. But then he heard Murphy, yelling for Connor and obviously coming to help them. _Thank fucking god the other leprechaun existed. Fuck yeah he did like him more and more._

“Are you crazy? Wait for us! You’re just gonna get yourself killed!” he could hear Abraham roar but Murphy ignored him, coming right for his brother and friend.

“Murph, fuckin hurry! I can’t keep ‘em away from ‘im much longer!” Connor yelled and it suddenly became very obvious how exhausted the Irishman already was from fighting and shielding Daryl from all these walkers so hard, and that just made Daryl angry.

“Move your fuckin ass so I can help yah!”

“Trust me, ye don’t wanna fuckin see dat shit” Connor just growled and buried his elbow in Daryl’s back a little more, only that this time, he was doing it on purpose. But it was well true, the sight of it was actually a bit terrifying even to him, although he knew he was save from bites. But at least five to ten walkers had pilled up on him by now, pressing and pressing and trying to get into that corner behind him, trying to get to the easiest prey in the room that was Daryl right now, simply because he had not been shielded by any shelves like the rest of the group at the time of the attack. Connor raised his head a little, trying to get some distance between himself and the walker that was pressing painfully against him, because not just the pressure of their chests connecting was incredibly uncomfortable, but also her stench and the way she looked.

She really was completely rotten and bloated, everything about her was decaying and what had used to be her skin was completely grey and almost green-ish and covered with slime and god knows what else. Although he was used to death, dying and killing there was no way in hell Connor would ever get used to corpses and decay, or walking and growling corpses for that matter. Since he could no longer fight them or shove them away and had to wait for the others to help them all he could do was crane his neck and try to ignore the walkers that were trying to get past him, trying to be patient.

It was then when he caught glimpse of Gabriel on top of one of the shelves, however he had managed to get up there. He was just sitting there, looking terrified and haunted as he watched the scenario unfold below him.

Connor gritted his teeth and got a little angry at the priest at first, but then he remembered that he had told the guy to get out of here after all, remembered him sitting on that rock earlier today just like that, like a scared coward, like your typical, innocent and completely non-violent priest. He really was the real deal, just like he had hoped, only that now he wasn’t exactly sure anymore if he really wanted a person like that, a priest like that in a world like this anymore. He was the reason why they were trapped like that right now after all, why Daryl had almost gotten bitten.

It seemed to take forever but Murphy eventually made his way over to them and started stabbing the walkers, then there were also gunshots coming from behind him, from the group, as they seemed to decide to quickly and finally finish it off in order to help them.

Murphy grabbed one walker after another and quickly stabbed his way through their skulls, pulling their floating corpses away so he could get to Connor and Daryl. As soon as the fifth walker was gone Connor could finally move his arm again too and moved it up, making Daryl grunt once more as they awkwardly readjusted their positions in the tight space a bit so Connor could start stabbing too. The older MacManus brother gathered the last bit of strength he had left and pushed forward, stabbing the disgusting slimy walker that had been pressed to him for far too long and pushing her away until he could properly move again.

Daryl almost immediately moved as well and turned around, happy to be able to use his knife once more too as he took care of the last walker.

“Are ye fuckin alright?!” Murphy asked with wide eyes and checked on Connor, who bent over a little bit so he could relax and take a deep breath after the awkward Daryl- walker sandwich he’d been trapped in for the past couple of minutes.

“Fuck yeah, ‘m alright” Connor breathed and Murphy quickly checked on his arms and chest only to hug him. Connor patted his back with a little chuckle and then let go so he could turn around and check on Daryl.

“What about ye, are ye alright? Did they fuckin get ta ye?”

Daryl quickly checked on himself but then quickly shook his head, finally looking around a little to let the sight of all the floating corpses around them sink in. He’d had no idea how many had really piled up on them by now, although he had felt the weight and heard them, but still, seeing all this…. _Holy shit._

Only Connor’s body had kept them from biting and probably eating him down here in this shithole.

“’m good. ‘m good…Shit” he said and then took a deep breath, bending over a little, too, to give his sore muscles a break.

“Thanks, man” he then said, a bit awkwardly, because he couldn’t quite believe how quickly things had spiraled out of control just because of this stupid priest. Speaking of which. He narrowed his eyes a little and looked around, until he caught a glimpse of Gabriel on the shelf, too.

Connor moved a little closer to check on the hunter just to make sure there were no bites, but he didn’t get to focus on it because then the group had caught up with them, and Abraham was obviously beside himself.

“How on _earth_ did you survive this shit?” he asked and moved forward to grab at Connor’s shirt a little, to check on him. “You got bit, right? You got…you gotta have bites. There’s no way in hell I just saw this shit unfold without you…holy shit” he trailed off because then he had already caught a glimpse of Connor’s healed bite mark on his shoulder. His shirt was a pretty loose mess already anyway, from the water and all the walkers that had been piling up on him and yanking at him to get to Daryl, so his loose collar had no longer really covered it up anyway. Abraham was staring at the healed scar and the distinctive marks of teeth that had once scraped across his skin, ripping it open.

“Holy shit” he said again and Connor angrily fixed his collar only to shoot a look past Abraham and towards Rick.

“Tell me this ain’t a healed bite from a dead one” the sergeant said in disbelief.

“Come on down” Connor said in the meantime as he simply ignored Abraham and walked over to the shelf Gabriel was still awkwardly hiding on.

Gabriel was still shaking and obviously terrified just like before, making them pretty much repeat the rock scenario all over again.

“Tell me this ain’t a bite from a dead one and that you ain’t been hiding a goddamned case of _immunity_ from us, from _Eugene_ after everything we told you about D.C.” Abraham said and then fixed his eyes on Rick, who was just staring back at him in the dark.

“He ain’t immune” Daryl tried, although he knew it was useless. Abraham scoffed angrily and glared at him.

“Oh yeah, all those dead ones just didn’t feel like eating him during this huge fucking pile up. What the hell people?”

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I panicked” Gabriel said in the meantime, as Connor waited for him to climb down the shelf. “It’s alright, father” the Irishman just said flatly as he helped him down. Truth be told, he still didn’t know whether he was angry with him or Rick because of how things had played out with Daryl and the walkers and Abraham finding out because of all this, but at the end of the day, he decided to force himself to not be angry with anyone.

He had saved a priest’s life. He had protected his best friend. The cat was out of the bag. They had plenty of food now. God had given him a sign no matter what, with this priest, his church, Daryl and his immunity, so he forced himself not to focus on his wrath and anger, but to be grateful and calm instead.

“Murphy?” came a voice from upstairs right then and there, suddenly, and made the whole group turn around with their guns drawn within a split second, dropping all questions and conversations on the spot.

They all pointed their guns at the hole in the ground above them, at a figure that was staring down at them against the sunlight.

Murphy, having heard his name and recognizing the voice, was the first to immediately lower his gun and widen his eyes in sheer surprise and shock.

“Sam?!”


	6. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo. New chapter. I really like it. It's pretty long this time, almost 13k, but I didn't want to cut it short because there is a LOT of things happening here. Sweet Connaryl-ing. Loads of it. There can never be enough of it
> 
>  **NOTE** The last third of this chapter contains some internalized homophobia and what some people may consider as fat stereotyping in a character's thoughts. Please read my answer regarding the topic in the comments [ here ](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/41892256) if you read that and want an explanation/insight on my part.

They were dragging the carts with food down the street, getting closer and closer to the church that was already within sight. Murphy was still absolutely beside himself with joy and didn’t bother helping because he wanted to carry the baby instead, reunite with her and her mother, and Connor couldn’t exactly blame him. He was looking at his brother who was walking in front of the cart he was pushing as Murphy eagerly chatted with Samantha, held her hand every once in a while or just nudged her arm with affection.

Despite everything, Connor couldn’t help but smile, really appreciating how things had turned out for Murphy although he hadn’t even _really_ believed in it happening this way. Connor looked at his sibling’s back, Samantha’s glowing red hair in the sun that showed that she was vibrantly alive. Then he looked at the white church bell tower in the distance, the blue sky above it with the sun shining bright.

 _Well, he’ll be fucking damned if this wasn’t a sign._  
  
He then eventually turned his head a little to look at Daryl who was pushing another cart beside him, while the hunter continuously kept his eyes fixed on Abraham and Rick. Connor figured that eventually, he would have to waste a thought on Abraham and the immunity as well, but just for a moment he also appreciated the fact that Daryl was still here, too. Apart from the immunity coming out and Rick’s shitty plan back at the food bank, things had still turned out rather great today, and for that, he was grateful. He had saved his best friend from walkers, and here he was, still alive and kicking. So despite everything, the immunity thing had been entirely necessary, and no matter how troubling it was sometimes, today it also had been a whole lot more useful than anything else.

Connor smiled and then eventually allowed himself to face the inevitable when Daryl took notice of his looking at him and took it as invitation to start a chat about the latest events. He knew that eventually, his friend would get back to the Abraham and Washington topic, but right now, the hunter seemed to have something else in mind.

“Just look at that emo kid, all bright and shiny because of the chick” Daryl opened the conversation, knowing that Connor loved to talk about Murphy the most, trying to use it as neutral opener.

Connor grinned and turned his head again to look at Murphy, nodding.

“Aye. Like a cat that got its cream dat one” he agreed and Daryl snorted a little.

“Yeah. Looks like he ain’t depressed and screwed all over cos she’s dead and he shouldn’t have met her in the first place” the hunter teased and Connor rolled his eyes a little, but eventually he got back to a content smirk.

“All right, all right. I gettit. I was a dick about it.”

He then he fixed his eyes on the church again and nodded after a while.

“I’m starting ta understand it again, okay” he eventually said and Daryl looked at him a little closer.

“I already told Murph earlier. I needed a sign ta get me back on my path and it looks more and more like I really got one” he went on and Daryl scoffed once more, although it was quickly accompanied by a little smile.

“If that girl ain’t obvious flaming sign enough, or your bible-thump lair back there, I don’t know what else is. Even I can see that, leprechaun” the hunter retorted a little later and Connor just grinned and chuckled even more, looking down a bit.

“Yeah” he agreed and eventually fixed his eyes on Gabriel, who was clumsily leading the group back to the church. “I still can’t fuckin believe that tha priest guy’s te real deal. I mean he’s a bit shady and definitely a coward, but he sure knows his bible and faith. Ye can’t fake that. It’s good ta know that me and Murph aren’t the only ones these days” Connor said and then patted a can on his food cart.

“And now we got food, we got water, Murph got his girl back, te group is back tagether..ye didn’t get eaten by walkers…”

“Huh, yeah” Daryl said with a little snort and then looked at Connor.

“Thanks for that, by the way.”

“No trouble, ‘s what we do. _Ain’t dying as long as I’m around_ , right” Connor said with a little smile and Daryl nodded, equally content.

“Damn right.”

Connor nodded as well and got back to his previous talk.

“Anyway…so te big boss up there _definitely_ still has some say and got back ta us… Truth be told…that feels real fuckin good. After all the shit that happened lately….It’s just what I needed.”

Daryl observed Connor a little closer, studied his face and saw the content _happy_ smile there, and that actually made him happy and smile, too.

“You ain’t gotta tell me” he said and looked away, looked at the rest of the group. He then cleared his throat and looked down a little, thinking about how he should get it across. Even after all this time, he still really wasn’t a guy for much talk or big words, even around Connor. But he was his best friend, he loved him, he really appreciated their relationship, and because of that, he wanted him to know and broke the silence, being completely honest.

“Look. I know shit’s been real tough since Woodbury. Even before...heck… since I met yah, alright. The stuff in Boston, the thing with your bro, the bites and the immunity crap and all those evil fucks who tortured you and killed Hershel…I _get it._ We’ve been through hell. And then some. But…we ain’t dead” the hunter said and Connor just looked at him.

“None of us are. You ain’t dead, I ain’t dead, Murphy ain’t dead, and now, so is Sam and her kid and all the others” the hunter went on and Connor turned his head to look at Murphy and Samantha in front of them, who were currently laughing about something Suzie did and then kissing each other, only to awkwardly trap the baby between them.

“Your bro’s been getting it for a long while. Whatever happened, happened. We still get to start over, alright. All of us. Despite everything. Whenever we want to. Don’t need no sign or…god to do this anyway. We start over, together. And this group, these people…they’ve been there from the start, that’s sign enough.”

Connor eventually looked at Daryl again, just silently, and although the hunter still felt uncomfortable talking so much, stating his own opinion, he still kept going.

“I mean stick to your god or…religion or whatever yah need if it keeps y’going but..it ain’t just started when we found that church. A year ago you wanted t’off yahself. And look where y’are now. Look where your bro’s at now. Things are shit, but they could be worse. ‘s all I’m sayin. We ain’t dead and we ain’t ashes of our former selves just cos of all this. You’re still you.”

They looked at each other then, looked at each other _deeply_ , until Daryl just scoffed and walked a little faster because despite the honesty of his words and his opinion, he secretly was still a bit embarrassed by his own openness. So he just kept going and kept pushing the cart.

“Thank you” Connor then suddenly said, making Daryl slow down and eventually stop again as he just looked at his friend.

“Yer right. Church, priest and god’s will or not. Back then, last year…ye were the sign that mattered the fuckin most” the Irishman said truthfully, and much to their surprise, none of them tried to rationalize their intense honesty with each other through any jokes or fighting and insulting each other. It was damn true and they both knew it, that Daryl was the one and _only_ reason why Connor was still alive, why Murphy was with them, why everything had turned out the way it was in the end.

Daryl just gave him a little nod.

“Same here” he then said quietly, because it was also true. Without Connor, without his _constant_ trying to be his friend and keep him with the group on the farm, without all his talk and their friendship, he wouldn’t be who he was today either. Without his blood transfusion or fighting for him and protecting him, he would be dead as well. They both eventually smirked a little and appreciated the moment, just looking at each other, until Daryl nodded his head to the side, letting Connor know that he was supposed to get moving again.

“Come on. Got some mouths to feed back at the church” he said and got walking again, and although Connor started walking too, he eventually called out for him to wait up.

Daryl rolled his eyes because now the moment was slowly becoming a bit annoying and dragging, but he did wait patiently for Connor until they were right next to each other again, and much to his surprise, the Irishman actually leaned in to kiss him. Just a bit forcefully and not too sweet, but still deep and caring, finishing this rather private and honest talk between them. The hunter was rather surprised by it and turned his eyes a bit to the side, looking at the group to check if they saw.

He was a _bit_ displeased to see that Rick and Michonne had their heads turned to seemingly check where they were and he felt awkward about it, but eventually, he ended up no longer caring and kissed right back. Because in the end, he couldn’t fight it anymore, the fact that he openly fucking _loved_ this stupid Irishman now, loved their relationship and the effect they had on each other. In the end he figured that only this mattered and that this was _his_ starting over. Starting over from a previous racist, humiliating, pointless, abusive, homophobic and loveless cruel life.

So eventually, he smiled a little into the kiss and kissed back even more, embracing the whole deal.

After a moment, Connor stopped and got walking again, pushing the cart with that still content smirk.

“Alright, enough chick flick. Let’s get going” the Irishman just said but wouldn’t mock otherwise as well, because he finally seemed just as content.

* * *

“So…you and Connor, huh?” Rick asked after having nipped on his wine. He had Judith on his lap and was playing with her tiny hands a bit as he waited for Daryl to answer. Daryl was sitting close to their leader on the ground by the church benches, just enjoying the celebration, the food and alcohol as they let the day come to an end in a rather relaxed manner. They had cooked some of the food they had found back at the food bank today. Gabriel had even offered to share his communion wine. The priest was nowhere in sight because he was in the back room with Connor to take his confession after what felt like forever, so for now, Daryl had decided to settle close to their leader and the alcohol.

He snorted and looked down shyly, playing with his hands to avoid direct eye contact.

“Huh, yeah” he muttered.

Rick smirked a little and looked straight ahead after having observed Daryl for a moment.

“I remember having to pull you off of him just to stop you from strangling him and nearly beating him to death not too long ago.”

Daryl scoffed and still wouldn’t look at their leader.

“Yeah, fun times” he just growled and then pressed his lips together.

Rick was smiling and Daryl saw it when he eventually looked at the policeman, looking him in the eye.

“You guys okay with this? I mean…” he mumbled and Rick looked back at him, as he seemed to consider this, but the smile wouldn’t fade away, especially when Judith started babbling on his lap.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Dunno. Cos it’s wrong and all” Daryl quickly murmured, slurring the words and making them almost inaudible because of his shyness and discomfort. Rick snorted.

“Daryl” he just said and the hunter eventually did look at him again. Although he was comfortable with it around Connor, wanted it to work out and stop fighting it, deep down, because of his upbringing, because of his past, he was still scared of what people thought about him.

 **_You're nothing but a freak to them_ ** _. Redneck trash. That's all you are. They're laughing at you behind your back. You know that, don't you?_

Even after all those months, even though he knew that Merle had loved him and only said this in his head to taunt him, he still couldn’t get those words out of his mind, out of his system. He knew he probably never would. His past and family had simply damaged him too much in that regard. This fear would always be there, that repulsion and panic that people would hate him, beat him, cast him out and laugh at him, simply because he was different, because he liked the wrong things. Even now and even though he knew Rick, a part of him still feared that Rick would look down on him just because of this, throw him out, call him an abomination, a disgrace to this group. But the policeman kept smiling at him until he focused on his daughter again.

“We’ve known for a while. There’s a lot of things wrong with this world now. That’s not one of them” he said and Daryl breathed out a little, feeling relieved and appreciating it, until he did get a bit irritated at the ‘ _known for a while_ ’ comment.

“We’re just glad you two stopped being at each other’s throat. We can’t have that kind of tension around our people…not when there’s all those others out there. We’re family. All of us. And we’re all happy for you” Rick just said and Daryl nodded a little, letting his gaze wander. He observed his group, saw all the happy faces and how they enjoyed their meal, chatted and drank and listened to Beth’s singing to keep them entertained. No one even honestly seemed to care about it at all. They had better things to do. Daryl chewed on his lips and nodded a little more, getting more content.

“Yeah.”

He then took a larger sip on his own glass of wine and watched Samantha, Murphy and Suzie for a while.

“She said she heard the gunfire, drew her right back to our location at the food bank” Rick said, having noticed Daryl’s stare. “Let’s just hope Connor really took care of the rest of those...Termites… and that they didn’t hear it, too. Maybe we should put up an extra watch shift tonight. Just in case.”

Daryl nodded again and swallowed the wine.

“Hmhm. Will do. Me ‘n the leprechaun got it covered. You guys been through enough back there.”

Rick watched Sam and Suzie a little while longer, taking note that there was a second child among them now, until he had to ask.

“Who is she, anyway? Did you meet her? After Woodbury?”

“Yeah. M knew her from before. Back up there in Mass? She made her way down here when she heard from those guys from Augusta, then Terminus. Been on a long journey for a while” the hunter answered and observed her, too. “She’s real tough.”

“That’s being a parent” Rick answered and then smiled at his daughter, ruffling her hair and kissing the top of her head, which made Daryl smile a little, too.

“She’s gon’ be real tough, too. One day” he said and nudged Judith a little, too. “Real asskicker” he added and Judith babbled again, as if in agreement, which made both men chuckle. They drank and ate some more while Rick watched Abraham and his group, only to look back at Judith every once in a while, until he started talking again.

“Listen…Connor told me about Augusta. That you found a laboratory there? With scientists, everything, that there’s really something out there. It got me wondering. Is there _really_ a chance?" he asked and looked at Daryl. “For a cure?”

The hunter visibly tensed a little and looked at the door Connor had disappeared through, then at Murphy, until he looked down and nodded.

“Yeah” he muttered and took a small but deep breath.

“I didn’t wanna..keep it from you guys, but….”

He leaned back a little and stared at the arch above the altar.

_HE WHO EATS MY FLESH AND DRINKS MY BLOOD HAS ETERNAL LIFE._

“These guys…they were gonna kill ‘em, man. They were this close t’just…offing Connor. Or M. Before this” he said and shook his head a little. “And even then…there were punks all over the city. They didn’t have the right tech and…even if they found something, back there,it would’ve been useless. They didn’t turn out to be the too friendly kind. They got selfish. Scary. They broke my rib, sent me out on a death mission just to get what they wanted, it was a mess. They ain’t ever really given them a choice.”

Rick just nodded and kept his eyes on Murphy, thinking. Daryl noticed the stare and licked his lips, clearing his throat.

“You thinkin ‘bout D.C., right” he observed and Rick looked at him.

“You’re thinkin ‘bout getting them up there t’find something.”

Rick let out a little sigh and leaned his head back against the bench as well.

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Look, I wanna end this whole thing just as much as you do..for her..for us, but..” the hunter went on, but then shook his head a little.

“We’re not gonna hand him over to anything he doesn’t wanna do, Daryl. I know what you’re gonna say” the policeman said, and Daryl just stared at him.

“Whatever we do, we’re gonna do it together. Nobody gets left behind or hurt. Not anymore. We stay together. These people here..you…Connor, Murphy..that baby, her mom…you people are my family now. If it works, that’s fine, if it doesn’t, that’s fine, too. We’ll manage. We’ve lost enough people already. We’re not taking chances  any longer.”

Daryl gave their leader an approving nod.

“Good” he said and then looked up when he heard the creaking of the door, saw Connor and the priest exit the room now that the confession was obviously finished. Daryl just looked at his friend who gave him a short nod and smile but then temporarily focused on his brother and his girlfriend. Then Daryl’s face fell, just a tiny bit, because he was worried. “I don’t wanna lose ‘im” he actually admitted, remembering that day in Woodbury when he had seen him on the ground and had been _sure_ for a whole couple of days that Connor was dead, that he had _lost_ him and how excruciating that had been.

“Hey” Rick said and Daryl looked back at him.

“You won’t” he said and looked the hunter directly in the eye. “We won’t” he reassured him and then raised his glass a little again. “Like it or not, he’s stuck with us now” he added and then drank, but before Daryl got to answer Abraham suddenly raised his voice, gently knocking at his glass with a spoon. “I’d like to propose a toast” he announced and everyone slowly quietened down, listening up more and more to hear what the army man had to say. Abraham looked at each and every one of them, eventually focusing his eyes on Rick because he was the group’s leader.  
  
“I look around this room, and I see survivors. Each and every one of you has earned that title” he said and then raised his glass, exclaiming a content “To the survivors!”

Most of the group did raise their glass and cheered a happy “Survivor’s!” among them people like Glenn, Maggie, Carl, Bob, Beth, Sasha, Tyreese and Abraham’s group. Sam and most of all Murphy were almost cheering the loudest, for one because Samantha certainly had done the most surviving today, and because Murphy was still incredibly happy and slightly tipsy already. Connor, Daryl and Rick stayed quiet and wouldn’t join in, just listening cautiously to hear what Abraham had to say.

And as if on a timer, it was right then and there when Abraham’s speech was slowly starting to take a turn.

“Is that all you wanna be? Wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep at night two eyes open, rinse and repeat?” Abraham asked and a few of the group looked down as if trying to show that they were losing interest. Or maybe they were a bit ashamed, Daryl didn’t know, he just kept his eyes fixed on Abraham as he chewed on his beans.

“Cos you can do that. I mean you got the strength, you got the skill… thing is..for you people, for what you can do, that’s just surrender” Abraham went on and eventually did what they had already dreaded, pointing right at Connor. “Today, I witnessed that you got the goddamned _answer to the infection_ within your midst. I’ve seen what is possible already, that we’re **_close_** ” he said and Connor scoffed a little, rolling his eyes and folding his arms angrily as he just gave Abraham and Eugene a glare.

“You can keep fightin’ and hiding… or…. we get Eugene and him, and every one of you… to Washington and we will make the dead die and the living will have this world again” Abraham went on and Connor looked down, pressing his lips together. Daryl looked at Connor, too and then quickly fixed his eyes on Rick for a moment, but he focused on Abraham again when he kept talking.

“I’ve seen what it can be like today…no more bites…no more fearing attacks, no dreading that you’ll get torn apart by them, out there, sooner or later. Together, we can fight this disease and _cure_ it once and for all. That is not a bad take away from a little road trip.”

It was deadly silent once again, as everyone either considered this or was looking at Rick, Connor and Murphy, and no one was exactly surprised when Connor did speak up, considering that he was Abraham’s main focus after all.

“Maybe my blood is the answer…maybe there really can be a cure. We all know that I am te real fuckin deal, that I’m immune and that this is different. This is my proof” he said and pulled his collar to the side a little, to reveal his scar once again. “Ye can all see it, it’s certain, there’s no questions. But so far..ye still haven’t given us proof that everything _yer_ saying is true. All you got is words. How do we know yer not lying?”

“What’s in D.C., Eugene?” Abraham asked and just kept looking at Connor, who stared back. The Irishman eventually fixed his eyes on Eugene then, challenging him. Eugene looked at him and then everyone else, still looking worried and so incredibly ridiculous with his mullet and shorts, until he cleared his throat and started talking.

“Infrastructure constructed to withstand pandemics even of this fubar magnitude. That means food, fuel, refuge…restart.”

Abraham nodded.

“However this plays out, however long it takes for the reset button to kick in, you can be safe there. Safer than you’ve been since this whole thing started.”

“Even I can fucking say shit like that, come on” Connor said, a bit angrily. “Come t’Boston. It’s safe there. I’ve been there. There’s food, fuel, refuge, complex infrastructure, medication xyz-insert-fucking-complicated-scientific-name here. Even I can fuckin say that we should go there cos ye know I’m from there. But ye know the truth? Boston is burned t’the fuckin ground. It’s overrun. And just because _I’m_ saying it’s safe with some nerd talk, doesn’t mean I got proof and that it’s true. All te big cities are lost and we know it.”

“What are you so damn afraid of? Hm?” Abraham just countered and stared at Connor.

“Is it cos you might get tested? Might get hurt? Might die to save mankind?” he said and then pointed at Rick, Judith, Suzie.

“Are you really so selfish that you want to keep this to yourself instead of saving those little ones, your friends and family, those people in here and out there?”

“It’s not about me being selfish, it’s about me being fuckin cautious, alright fella? Relax. Give me proof, give me something of certainty, and I’ll gladly fucking die fer each and every one of those people in here. But so far yer guy… is just vague as shit.”

“Connor” Murphy eventually muttered and instinctively got up to be closer to his sibling, trying to ease him up and make the whole thing a little less tense.

“San Francisco. Augusta. INSERM in Paris, France” Eugene suddenly said and made Connor look at him.

“Those were the three facilities that were closest to the solution. Apart from my colleagues in D.C. We lost contact with them all but…Last I heard, rumor had it there was a case just like yours. You may not believe me and frankly, it does not matter. You are not the only one. Even if I didn’t know this with certainty, you couldn’t possibly be the only one. Cases of this global magnitude, they don’t work like that. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more cases of immunity back at the facility by now” the scientist went on and Connor fell quiet, just staring at Eugene, honestly surprised.

The man then looked at the rest of the group.

“I’m awfully aware that you people want answers but I assure you, even if I provided that information in full detail to convince you right now, I am telling you, you would not understand. Frankly…I am smarter than you. I am one of the few highly intelligent people left on this planet, and there’s reason for it that I won’t further elaborate. But it is of certainty that you will be provided answers from my colleagues back in D.C. Colleagues who are more adapt to socialize and converse with you about the further agenda in ways that even you can understand.”

“Why didn’t you fuckin say anything about Augusta when I asked ye?” Connor asked with a little frown, but Eugene just stared at him flatly.

“You asked ‘What about Augusta’. I asked you what you wanted to know about it. You didn’t answer.”

“Well, what do you know about it?”

“We’re aware that there has been communication. That they had something. But they lacked and always have lacked the resources, status and importance to be of much interest. Augusta is a small stage 2 city. Our main priority was and still is the capital. Washington. That is my mission. That is my destination. We informed you twice now that our communications ceased on our way here.”

“And that is why we need to damn hurry and haul our asses all the way up there before it’s too late” Abraham added and Connor eventually fell quiet, looking down a bit as he obviously got lost in his thinking world, thought all the latest information through, and started plotting away. It was obvious that he was taken aback, hadn’t suspected those kinds of answers, that this whole game wasn’t going the way he had expected it to go, that maybe he was losing.

He wouldn’t say anything anymore and eventually settled, sitting down and brooding a little more.

“So what do you say? Fighting to live day by day. Or surviving. Wining this thing” Abraham asked the group who remained silent and subconsciously looked at Rick, until it was Judith who suddenly interrupted the silence with another babbling noise. Some chuckled, trying to ease up after the tension and questions, and Rick eventually chuckled, too, adjusting his daughter’s weight.

“What was that?” he asked and Judith mumbled some more, making the group smirk and laugh properly now.

“I think she knows what I’m about to say” Rick said and nodded. “She’s in” he announced and smirked a little more. “If she’s in, I’m in” their leader said and gave the rest of the group a nod.

“We’ll try.”

“Yeah” a few others joined in, until they got louder and fully agreed, cheering a bit, once again agreeing on the survivor part. Daryl fixed his eyes on Connor who was still sitting there and moving his hand through his messy blonde hair, thinking it through, until he eventually, _finally_ cracked a tiny smile as well, if only just because he had looked at Murphy, Samantha and Suzie for a moment, fixed his eyes on his brother who was holding the child as if it were his own.

Murphy looked a bit troubled as well by the whole thing and he couldn’t blame him, couldn’t blame them after Augusta. Daryl could understand that they were a bit scared, certainly worried what this whole thing could mean, but in the end, Murphy was and would always be more trusting and optimistic than his brother, would always believe a little more in a positive outcome. After all, he, with his headshot and immunity, was a living miracle. And if Murphy wanted to give it a shot despite everything else for the sake of everyone else and his new family, it went without saying that Connor was in as well.

Daryl knew exactly that this was why Connor eventually gave in to a smile although he had no _real_ reason. Looking at Murphy, seeing him with that kid as their future, knowing that he had revealed his bites and invisibility around walkers to the others whereas Murphy had not yet done it like that, that was reason enough. Connor was smiling because he believed his brother to be safer and better off than him even if something went wrong. He knew that this was a smile that said that he was willing to take everything on by himself, with the immunity, the scientists, if only it kept his brother from it, if only it helped innocent people like Sam, Suzie, Judith, the rest of them to get better, to get cured.

Connor eventually looked at Daryl and gave him a tiny, cautious nod with that smile, letting him know that, although he was not even 50% okay with everything coming out and the way it was going, he was still going to join the ride along with him, with them. Because this was the other reason why he forced himself _not_ to be smart and selfish and hardened about it, why he decided to ignore his gut instinct and play along.  
  
Connor knew that Daryl wanted to stay with them all. He knew his friend loved this group, their friends, their history together, that he wanted to follow them and stay together and be surrounded by people. Although it would be hard for him in a new world, he knew that Daryl still wanted a cure and a rebuilt society just like everybody else, just so the dying and losing people would stop, just so he could keep his friends safe. He didn’t want to force Daryl to have to decide and leave his other friends behind just so he could stay with him, be with him, never see a cure hit the light of day, so he gave in and forced himself to smile.

For Murphy’s sake. For Daryl’s sake. For everybody else.

Connor also knew what Daryl’s look meant. The hunter wasn’t going to let anything happen to him. This was him letting him know in return that he was unconditionally loyal, his protector, that no scientist or doctor was ever going to get close to him if it meant that he was going to get hurt or killed. He had already done this sort of thing back in Augusta after all, and the look on his face gave it away that he was _damn_ determined to repeat the same thing all over again if he had to. It made Connor feel a little better, a little safer and more comfortable with the whole thing, but somehow he believed that maybe this was the final step, that maybe this time, even Daryl wouldn’t be able to turn this thing around if it went wrong.

It was risky business, a new adventure, but this time, it was a risk he was willing to take. For the future, for his twin and best friend, for his own soul and future path.

Connor eventually turned the defeated smirk into a proper crooked half smile and got up, searching the back of his pants for the crushed cigarette pack that Daryl had brought him earlier so he could get a smoke and head outside. Daryl finished his meal and eventually got up, too, letting Rick know that he was now going to take over the first watch shift along with Connor the way he had talked about it earlier. The group was already back to celebrating, chatting, drinking and eating in the candlelight, obviously excited, happy and full of hope about what the future might bring after all the chaos they had faced during those past couple of weeks.

* * *

 

“You good with all this?” Daryl muttered as he sat down beside Connor on the church’s front steps, lighting a cigarette as well as he looked up at the night sky. Connor was just casually sitting there, moving his hand through his hair as he was obviously still thinking about everything for a bit, smoking cigarette in his mouth. But he nodded and eventually took the cigarette between his fingers, breathing out the smoke.

“Aye” he then said and stared into the distance as well.

They sat next to each other and smoked on for a moment, until Connor kept going.

“I mean…I could tell ye at least a..dozen reasons why we should just grab Murph and Sam right now and get te fuck going and never see tha D.C. club again but….aye. Rick’s right. Maybe we should give it a try at least” he muttered and got rid of some ash from his cigarette.

“Maybe mullet’s te real deal, too, after all. I mean the priest is.”

“You really think so?” Daryl asked after a moment, and Connor snorted.

“No” he answered and shook his head a little, with a smile. “He’s just avoiding too much. Never gives any details. He heard me talk about Augusta. And San Francisco and France…judging by his talk and that haircut…he knew his way ‘round the internet and other people’s business before everything and when it all started. Besides, knowing that I’m not te only one..that’s a pretty easy guess. 7 billion people before everything ended…’f course there’s not just me’n Murph. But y’know…” the Irishman went on and eventually looked at Daryl.

“I’d like them ta prove me wrong. We’ll never know if we don’t try at least, right?”

“Hmhm” Daryl muttered after a moment, burying his hands in his pockets and wobbling the cigarette in his mouth up and down a little.

“And even if shit goes wrong in D.C….we’ll manage. Always have” Connor said and then leaned forward a bit, looking down.  
  
“Ye were right earlier t’day” he added after a while,, taking another long and slow drag on his cigarette. “About starting over. ‘m gonna try as well. Maybe this is my starting over. Believing in good a little more again. Being more optimistic and shit… Murph said it, too. Everybody can’t be fuckin bad.”

Daryl nodded and took his cigarette out of his mouth.

“Whoever the guy is…I talked t’Rick earlier, when you were busy with pope guy?” he said and Connor shifted a little. “We ain’t gonna let ‘em hurtcha or kill yah back there no matter what. Alright. Just like I said. To Rick…to everyone in there…yah family, too. It’s gonna be a smooth ride.”

Connor just nodded but wouldn’t look at Daryl.

“It’s really not about me being selfish or scared or anything, y’know” he said, taking another drag on his cigarette while Daryl just listened. “If it were just about me, I’d really fuckin die fer people ta provide that cure. I wouldn’t hestitate. I was already there one time and I’d do it again. That would be a fuckin honor. But..”

He took a deep breath and looked down, moving his hand through his hair yet again, until he eventually looked at Daryl.

“I just can’t fucking lose Murph again. Not ta this. Not to anything connected t’that fuckin bite. He needs ta live. It’s just that wherever I go, he goes. So if I go there, he’s in danger, too. That’s what all this was about.”

Daryl scoffed a little.

“Yah think I don’t know that, man?”

The Irishman smirked.

“I know.”

They finished their smokes until Daryl shifted a little more, getting more content.

“We’re gonna get t’D.C., and we’re gonna be just fine.”

“Ye just gotta believe and force it inta reality, aye” Connor said with a smirk and eventually chuckled, dropping his finished cigarette to the ground.

“Let’s just drop te topic now. I’m in a good fuckin mood taday and I wanna keep it that way.”

“Yeah, you better” Daryl teased and smirked when Connor nudged his shoulder a bit forcefully.

After this, they just sat and talked about random things, chatting and gossiping away and even laughing a bit as they had their second smokes, until they eventually fell silent and just enjoyed the comfortable stillness, listened to the sounds of nature in the night. Daryl looked at Connor from time to time, wondering, with a small content smile, until his friend eventually broke the silence, having noticed the looks.

“Wanna fuck?” he suddenly asked and Daryl nearly swallowed the wrong way, turning his head to look at Connor with a raised eyebrow.

“Cos I kinda fuckin wanna right now” the Irishman added and grinned more, although it was entirely to himself as he wasn’t even looking at Daryl but at the ground instead, lost in thoughts. Daryl just looked at him and eventually let his gaze wander back and forth between Connor and the church behind them, Connor, the church, Connor, the church, until he snorted.

“Dude, we’re in front of a damn church right now” he said and folded his arms a little stubbornly, although he was already getting _slightly_ excited at the chance. “I know I keep sayin you’re a bible-bangin weirdo, but I didn’t mean it literally.”

“ _Obviously,_ nat fuckin here” Connor said with a little eyeroll and finally looked at Daryl, even challenging him a bit with the look.

“What, like a visit t’y’all good old cult center ain’t brainwashed yah into thinking this whole thing being against your religion or something?” he muttered, but considered it more and more, shifting a little harder.

“Oh trust me, ‘m fresh off the assembly line, clean as plate, sound as an Irish pound, shining like a new penny. Believe it or not, I finally confessed ta all me grizzly sins. I am all fuckin good” Connor said and looked at Daryl again, waiting, until he eventually shrugged with that deadly smirk and got up with a sigh.

“Yer call” he said and sorted his clothes as he stood up, spitting on the ground because he had a bad taste in his mouth after that last smoke. He then simply got walking.

“Whatever. ’m gonna walk the perimeter, check if tha car’s tailin us again” he announced and kept walking, soon disappearing behind the first set of trees. Daryl was still sitting on the stairs, looking back at the church and then Connor once more, thinking it to be pretty fucking stupid and foolish, but at the end of the day, he was needy after all, so he cursed and got up as well, quickly following Connor into the woods.

* * *

 

He just walked for a while, keeping an eye out for walkers, for the car, but most of all Connor, but it was pretty hard to do so, considering that it was incredibly dark. He looked left to right, frowning a little, wondering where the fuck the leprechaun had run off to. But it didn’t take long and he could hear the cracking of a branch and the rustling of leaves behind him, instinctively turning around as fast as he could to face the possible danger.

But there was nothing.

Daryl frowned a little more and slowly reached for the bowie knife on his belt. Then he was suddenly yanked back _hard,_ startling and shuffling and fighting until his back connected with a tree.

“Getting a bit rusty there… fer a redneck” Connor greeted him and beamed his 10,000 watt smile at Daryl.

A part of him had already known that this was Connor, that this was their playing games, but he still had felt cautious, alerted and a bit nervous, knowing very well what else could be lingering out here. He scoffed as Connor let go of him, still grinning.

“Jackass. Could’ve stabbed you, you stupid?” he muttered and adjusted his clothes.

Connor just grinned even more, retreating a bit so he could check their surroundings for any other unwanted visitors like walkers, enemies, or that car. “Just like I said. Rusty” he teased and Daryl scoffed once more, putting his knife away. But he stood his ground and stayed where he was, now observing Connor and how he was checking their surroundings with his neck exposed, the neck tattoo becoming visible under dirt and the tan. Daryl bit his lower lip and then considered Connor’s watching out a welcome invitation, not just for a decent payback, but also for everything else that was going to follow. He moved incredibly fast, from one second to the next, grabbed Connor by his shirt and wrist and then twirled them around, slamming Connor against the tree just like it had happened to him a moment ago. He then kept him locked there, arm pressed slightly to his throat.

“You sure ‘bout that?” he asked, giving him a deadly look with squinted eyes, until he gave in to a ever so tiny smirk as well. A moment later Daryl leaned forward to finally kiss Connor, and he was actually surprised how quickly the Irishman was becoming somewhat frantic. They had hardly kissed for a few seconds when he already felt him working on his belt and fly, opening them up almost roughly with determined hands.

Daryl let out a pleasured moan when one of those determined hands wrapped around his dick, pulling at it a little to get it out of his underwear and pants to give it a few twists out in the open. The hunter eventually muffled his own noises by kissing Connor again, almost biting and clacking their teeth together, making everything even more passionate and intense.

In the meantime he also started working on Connor’s clothes, too, yanking his shirt up a little, scraping across his toned belly only to travel lower and quickly open his belt and fly, too. The Irishman was already busy frantically pulling his friend’s pants down as far as they would go, exposing his bare behind to the dark cold. This caused Daryl to start rutting against him, cursing when Connor’s pants wouldn’t come off fast enough until he almost forcefully and hastily turned him around. He shoved him back against the tree and was now facing his back, pulling his jeans down to get to bare skin.

Despite the shove he almost immediately got gentler and more intimate. He hadn’t done it because he wanted to hurt or dominate his friend, it was just that it couldn’t happen _fast enough_. Connor didn’t seem to mind though, in fact he seemed to embrace it. Because he was already reaching back and reaching for Daryl’s hip, digging his fingers forcefully into his skin there to pull him closer. The younger of the two friends knew that it was probably going to be messy, sloppy, painful, probably even not good, but it almost seemed like they had come to a silent agreement that something needed to happen fast.

He barely managed to spit into his hand, slicking himself up and then prepping his friend as good as he could, but Connor eventually just grunted a heated “Just get te fuck going” and made him stop, so he obliged. He positioned himself and came closer, trying to thrust his way in, although just like the two times before it was rather awkward, slow, and almost didn’t work.

Once again it felt like forever until he slowly and sluggishly slid inside, too slowly, wasting too much time. But the worry that he might hurt Connor because of the lack of proper lubrication numbed his neediness down a bit, slowed him down, made him more careful. After a moment of awkward grunting, shuffling and adjusting Connor eventually muttered an almost hoarse "Okay,’m good, ‘m good”, letting Daryl know that he could move forward.

The hunter almost immediately started thrusting, using more force until it got easier, but their heated grunts and moans bypassed it just fine. Daryl breathed an aroused “Oh fuck” with his first thrust and clung to him from behind while he found a steady rhythm. He was pressing Connor a bit harder against the tree but the Irishman didn’t mind at all, all he could do was agree with an equally breathy “You don’t fucking say, fuck..”

They would no longer speak after it and fully engaged in it, the both of them just letting go, letting their lust and more animalistic needs take over. It was a lot better than the previous two times simply because of that acceptance and embracing it, as they both had finally and fully come to terms with it. Daryl was no longer shy and more confident while Connor simply didn’t care about anything anymore and actually let go, in fact, he suddenly realized that he wasn’t even thinking or scheming at all right now.

He threw his head back and connected hard with Daryl’s shoulder behind him as he allowed himself to let out a deep moan when his friend started jerking him off to his own pounding rhythm behind him. He almost wanted to call out and thank the high fucking heavens for the fact that they were _finally_ fucking each other again. The truth was that right now, even he didn’t know why the hell he’d been putting it off for such a while, why he hadn’t felt like it and left Daryl hanging after everything, after ‘coming out’ and all the other crap they had admitted to after all.

At first he had been aware and remembered that the initial pain and discomfort and sheer novelty of this whole butt business was probably the main reason, that it still freaked him out. But this was long since gone by now and what was left was actual sheer pleasure and enjoyment, just as much as all his previous enjoyment and satisfaction he’d had with every woman he had ever been with, even though this right here didn’t even include any sort of penetration from his ends.

Daryl got clingier and intensified his thrusting, making the sound of hard and sweaty skin become more obvious. Although they were both aware that any of this could quickly get out of hand and awkward with walkers or enemies or even their friends turning up and seeing, hearing it, but for some reason it was exactly that, accompanied by the sound and movement that made it even more exciting.

It was almost funny how, apart from the obvious pleasure and neediness and urgency, it felt so freaking normal and _natural._ Especially in an environment like this, Daryl thought, as he breathed harshly against Connor’s neck and then bit down and kissed and sucked a little, moaning quietly in response to his friend’s much louder and carefree moan. They both enjoyed their coupling _a lot_ , maybe even more than they ever had. There was a lot of touching, a lot of responding to certain movement and angles and sounds.

Daryl actually really wanted his friend to turn around so they could face each other, make it even deeper and more intimate, but with just lowered pants and all these layers of clothing it was impossible. So this would have to do, and it wasn’t like it mattered a whole much longer. Because he was very close to his release, panting more and spending up until it was almost a pounding rhythm, drawing ragged sounds from Connor. He eventually stopped jerking him off for a moment and placed both his hands on his friend’s hips to use them to continuously _pull_ himself closer, slapping their hips together until he eventually cramped up, shouting once as he released. A short moment later he let out a deep moan and stopped thrusting, shooting his seed deep inside his friend until he slumped forward, pressing his forehead to Connor’s shoulder as he panted his way through the afterglow.

He held his eyes closed and eventually moved a hand up to clutch to the front of Connor’s shirt that covered his chest, holding him in an embrace as he calmed down and breathed out. Daryl eventually opened his eyes again and moved his head a little, suddenly feeling the need to speak it out.  “Shit’s gonna be alright” he said, content after everything, and then nuzzled his forehead against Connor’s shoulder. The Irishman chuckled and breathed just as laboredly, also moving a hand up to grasp the black messy hair on the back of Daryl’s head, to keep him close and maybe even massage his scalp a little to calm him down. The hunter just let him do this for a moment but eventually looked down on Connor, facing his still very obvious erection above his lowered pants and underwear.

He chewed on his lower lip, knowing that he should probably keep going and just jerk his friend off to finish it, but the more he thought about everything, the more he remembered all his feelings and insights lately, the more he considered something else. He stayed slumped against Connor’s back a little longer, using the embrace and warmth and familiar comfort to boost his confidence and fight the sudden fear that became more and more pronounced.

“You…wanna do it?” he eventually muttered, tensing up even more.

“Wh..what?” Connor muttered absently, still sounding much pretty aroused as he had only just now given himself a gentle squeeze to ease the need. Daryl chewed on his lip a little harder, nearly making it bleed, until he had the courage to say it. “Fuck me, dumbass” he growled, trying to give himself more confidence through aggression, but he almost immediately got calmer again. “Been talkin ‘bout that shit forever. Just figured that…” but he would say nothing more. Instead, he shifted a bit and withdrew so Connor could turn around a little more and face him.

Daryl had feared some of his mocking and teasing him first, with some virgin or typical redneck talk, but he was actually surprised to see that Connor didn’t look that way at all. Instead, his friend was looking at him in an almost concerned way. “Seriously?” he asked and Daryl awkwardly shifted a little more, looking down. He was very unsure and didn’t even really know it himself, so he just shrugged. “I mean sooner or later, shit’s gonna go down anyway” he mumbled and then looked at Connor, a bit shyly. He eventually took a deep breath and let out a sigh.

“How else’m I ever gonna get over that shit.”

Connor let out a little sigh, too and looked to the side, considering this. He very much wanted to do this, for obvious reasons, because he was on edge and needy and wanted to fucking come after everything. Next to this he also wanted to do it because it was an important step, because he freaking loved the guy and it would be a nice change, because he appreciated the trust Daryl put in him and their relationship. But he really wasn’t sure. It was one thing always teasing Daryl about ‘fucking him next time’, but it was something else entirely to actually face that possibility. Especially since he knew that Daryl _had_ been raped in his past and still was beyond damaged because of it.

“I don’t know, man” he said honestly, and Daryl was actually offended and narrowed his eyes.

“What, you think I ain’t got the guts t’do it?”

“It’s not fucking that, alright?” Connor said angrily and stayed quiet for a bit longer, eyeing Daryl until he scratched his left eyebrow and looked down. It was a bit awkward, but not because of the male-on-male part. It was the abuse and past rape part that made him unsure, because he didn’t have a clue how to handle it rightfully, just _knew_ himself well enough to consider himself way too freaking insensitive for any such thing.

“Shit can be fuckin painful, especially in situations like this one when we can’t even slick shit up” he tried and then faced Daryl again. “And given yer history..”

Daryl scoffed angrily and looked away. He knew it had been stupid. Even now he could hardly battle the memories, the sounds of heavy footsteps on these stairs to his room, the stench of alcohol and sweat, the disgusting sounds and talk, the pain and the shame. But this was exactly the point. He wanted to forget. He _needed_ to forget. After everything, this was the final missing piece. Everything was good, everything was moving forward and getting comfortable and normal, except for this _freaking_ part.

He stood and shifted, battling his own demons, staring Connor down, feeling embarrassed and mutilated and angry and furious and _murderous_ , battled and battled, until he came to terms. He looked past Connor, to the left, back to the church and the surrounding woods, but there was absolutely nothing. Nothing but silence and darkness, as if even nature was waiting patiently for them to move forward.

Then he scoffed softly and got moving, placing both his hands on his jeans and belt to move them, to push them further down.

“This ain’t your choice” he said and then knelt down a little, to untie his shoelaces, get rid of his shoes, so he could fully lose his pants and underwear. “And this ain’t your call” he added, kicking the shoes away. He was actually rather surprised by his own actions and emotions in this very moment, how strangely calm he was although at the same time, he was completely freaking out and embarrassed.

For one because he was running around with a completely bare ass and naked from the waist down in the middle of freaking nowhere, out here, but also because of what was about to happen. He turned his back on Connor and looked down, telling himself that he was trying to scout out a somewhat comfortable spot on the ground to lie down because there was no way he was letting Connor trap him and press him against anything, but he knew that for the most part he was turning his back on the Irishman because he actually couldn’t quite bear facing him.

“You comin or what?” he eventually asked and somewhat settled down, on his knees, suddenly finding it incredibly grotesque because it felt like he was kneeling down to get executed. Maybe this even was his execution, his humiliation and future freakout. He took a deep breath and tried not to ponder on it. A part of Connor really didn’t freaking want to right now, not so suddenly, not when Daryl had overwhelmed him like that in the middle of freaking nowhere without any proper equipment or setup. A part of him didn’t want to because the rape and abuse and the whole touchy topic. But at the end of the day, he was still a man, still on freaking edge and heated up and needy after everything that had happened with Daryl already, so eventually, he gave in.

And even without that, it wasn’t like he really wanted to embarrass or truly humiliate his friend by leaving him hanging right here, with that bare white ass of his in the middle of nowhere. Maybe he wanted to laugh a little because of the sight, but when he saw the look on Daryl’s face he eventually managed to battle that urge. Instead, he got rid of his belt as silently as he could to not freak his friend out and then opened his jeans up a little more, walking forward in the process until he knelt down, too, lowering his clothing even more.

“Ye absolutely fuckin sure?” he asked for a final time, moving closer as Daryl finally adjusted and actually lay down on the ground, on his back, facing him and the dangling rosary above his face.

“Shut up” the hunter said and simply stared at the night sky then, avoiding eye contact and waiting. He didn’t like facing Connor when he was so vulnerable right now, but there was just no way he was getting his face pressed into the dirt, pressed down anywhere without being able to see _exactly_ what was going on, what was going to happen. Because this would be way too close and similar to the past otherwise, and he desperately needed to shut the image of that drunk, abusive bastard out of his mind.

“Wait up” Connor suddenly said and got rid of his jacket, exposing his toned arms. He then nudged Daryl’s arm and told him to move the fuck up a bit, placing the jacket underneath him to make it at least somewhat comfortable without any sticks or leaves or stones pricking his friend in the back. Daryl appreciated the gesture and adjusted his position, moving the jacket down a bit to somewhat protect his bare ass from the cold ground. He breathed out shakily and propped his arm under his head for support after it, just trying to keep it steady and calm.

But his breathing still hitched a little and he fought a light panic attack when Connor settled down between his legs, still kneeling but then leaning forward to slowly lie down with a breathy “Alright…alright.” He was continuously looking at the hunter to make sure everything was alright, although it was actually a bit hard.

No matter how hard Daryl tried to act all tough and aggressive and on top of it all, it was very obvious that he was scared shitless. He could tell by the way he was pressing his lips together and avoiding eye contact, could tell by how the hunter only tensed up more when Connor clumsily paced one hand between his legs, fingers facing down and resting just under his balls, gently cupping. To him, it was pretty fucking normal by now, to touch Daryl’s dick, hell, touch anyone between their legs during sex to make them enjoy themselves, but it was a bit different because he knew that to Daryl, that really wasn’t freaking normal anymore, not with what was up next.

Connor considered saying something but the truth was that they both knew that he was shitty with _those_ kinds of words, comfort, patience, sensibility. So instead, he decided to shut up and leaned down to kiss Daryl instead, only shortly at first, until he intensified it with a second kiss as he properly lay down on top of his friend, stroking his side to soothe him. It did have a somewhat calming effect on Daryl at first because it was obvious that he loved him, appreciated the kiss, the fondling touch on his dick and balls for a while, but then he almost immediately tensed up and stopped breathing for a second when his friend carefully pressed the hand and his fingers down further, attempting to prep.

“Relax, okay” Connor said into his mouth, interrupting the kiss and then making Daryl look straight at him. “Just fuckin relax” he said and then discretely slicked up his hand only to try again. His friend’s breathing still got a bit panicky and he struggled when Connor kept going, finding it really uncomfortable. But eventually he did look his friend in the eye, actually focused on his face to remind himself that this was okay, that this wasn’t the past, that this was Connor and ultimately a person he loved deeply, a person he knew would never dare to truly hurt him in any way his father had done it in the past.

Connor actually carefully prepped much longer than he probably needed to, moving slowly and carefully to ease everything up. Daryl certainly needed the time to adjust, to come to terms with it, to accept it and battle the pain, although he knew that most of it was just phantom pain anyway. Eventually, after a very long time and when he actually felt that Daryl was at least somewhat half-hard, Connor eventually looked up again to face his friend, the look on his face saying it all.

_Ready?_

Daryl stared up at him, still a little scared and uncomfortable, but slowly and carefully more heated and aroused already, too. The hunter gave him a nod after a moment and prepared himself, and when Connor nodded back he took another deep breath. But his breathing still hitched and he winced when Connor tried to enter. He moved one hand down quickly and grabbed for the ground, taking hold of a bunch of leaves and dirt in the process. Connor placed a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it a bit, almost massaging it to soothe the hunter. Despite the struggle und unease he still kept going because he knew that it was the best way to pull it through. He pushed and moved and only slowly pulled himself closer until after a very long while and them slowly getting cold, he was actually fully buried inside his friend.

Daryl let out a shocked gasp, his right leg twitching and shaking as he moved it up a bit. He took his time to adjust and eventually opened his eyes again, looking at Connor with a shaking lip, until he sucked in some air and nodded once again holding on to his upper arms with both his hands. The Irishman let out a breathy chuckle and leaned down to kiss him, then he laid down as much as he could, covering each inch of Daryl’s body with his own, grasping his hair.

“Ye get used ta it” he muttered and then carefully started trusting, making Daryl’s breath hitch once more, with each slow thrust. Daryl forced himself to keep his eyes focused on the treetops above them at first, listening to their gentle rustling in the winds next to Connor’s aroused gasping and labored breathing, to calm himself in this familiar environment. He got used to the rhythm, the feel, although with each thrust, he still feared that the speed would pick up suddenly, that it would become painful and unwanted.

He actually and shakily decided to test it, whimpering and cramping up once and letting his emotions of panic and fear out just like he had always done it in the past. And for a moment, those memories of terror and struggle really rushed over him, the disgust and begging for it to stop, to stop _hurting_ him which had only be responded to with insults, calling him a pathetic worthless piece of shit and crybaby with the pounding only getting harder, more painful. Because his pained cries and struggle had only spurred that bastard on in his drunken craze.

He was beyond relieved and incredibly fucking _grateful_ when Connor immediately stopped and looked up, worry and concern obvious in the look on his face.

This time, there was a choice. There was a possibility for it to stop.

“You alright?” the Irishman breathed and Daryl just looked up at him, eventually nodding.

“Hmhm” he muttered, and was eventually surprised to realize that this was the truth. “I’m good” he answered and Connor looked at him a little longer with a frown. He wouldn’t keep moving so Daryl eventually did, actually spreading his legs just a tiny bit more to give his cramped up body a break. He breathed out two times to calm himself down even more, until he nodded once again and even pinched Connor’s side to get him going.

“Keep goin’ jackass” he muttered and Connor eventually smiled down at him.

“Scared as fuck but still so fuckin bitchy” he teased but Daryl only pinched harder, actually scratching a bit.

“Shut up.”

Connor chuckled and eventually did as he was told, lying down again to kiss him and got back to thrusting. He still tried to be as considerate as possible although it was getting harder and harder, considering how close he was. He couldn’t believe that they were actually doing this, that he was actually fucking Daryl and not the other way round, and it was only now just dawning on him that it had actually been _years_ since he’d been on the proper giving end.

The truth was that he didn’t even really remember the girl’s name anymore, only that it had been after another night on a bender, that it had been heated and sloppy and with a general ‘out of sight out of mind’ feel. It also dawned on him that it had been even more years, probably even more than a dozen since he’d last slept with someone he’d had something he could call _feelings_ for. But even with all those memories, he also had to realize that just like Daryl, he’d never slept with anyone like that, never loved anyone like _that_.

He got a little more heated and intensified his thrusting, trying to roll his hips instead of a pounding rhythm, and he was more than happy and relieved when Daryl eventually responded and even gasped once, with it sounding pleasured and not as if he were in pain. It got more intense when Daryl eventually even pulled him in by placing both his rough hands on his bare lower back and then pulling in, trying to intensify the union.

At first, the hunter had forced himself to embrace it, to harden himself up and take the pain and slight discomfort of tension ‘like a man’, but eventually he realized that he was no longer faking it, that it was actually the truth. After a while he allowed himself to moan once, allowed himself to acknowledge the budding erection between his legs, that it was there because he was starting to _like_ it. He frantically clung to the back of Connor’s neck, burying his face in his shoulder, slowly getting overwhelmed. He liked it because it _was_ different, because Connor wasn’t his stinking, fat and _abusive_ fuck of a father but instead, was considerate, experienced, mature. He was also pretty fucking _handsome_ , toned, freaking _sexy_ even, right now, although Daryl sure as hell would never admit to these thoughts.

He knew he had hit the freaking jackpot, that although it had been uncomfortable and slightly humiliating at first, it was now starting to become the opposite. After years, _decades_ of pathetic singlehood, wanking, bottled up anger and self-hatred and constant looking down and envying couples, he now actually had a freaking lover. Not an equally miserable chick, not an overly whiny gay milksob. No matter how gay and pathetic it sounded, he had scored points in the top league with Connor.

He knew that if he wanted to, with that face, body, history and attitude, the Irishman could probably have anyone. He could trick and plan himself into anyone’s pants. And yet here they freaking were. Ever so religious and homophobic jackass Connor. Fucking him. Even being careful and considerate because of his past. The Irishman had been right earlier. The way things were developing now…just what they had needed. Despite the past, the discomfort, novelty and slight awkwardness, he really and finally was _happy_ as well. He clung tighter to his friend and allowed himself to let go, of the past, of the shame and embarrassment and let him guide him, let him be in charge and move, explore, get more intimate and deeper without any second thoughts.

He would not wince, flinch or panic when Connor got a bit rougher and picked up speed, instead and just like his friend had said, he actually grew used to it and found that he somewhat enjoyed it. He even threw his head back a little and closed his eyes, his mouth only slightly opened as he let go of another moan. Maybe he didn’t feel much just yet, maybe the penetration and pounding wouldn’t get him off just yet and feel pleasurable, but he enjoyed it for something else entirely. The intimacy, the near, the trust, the patience, the emotions connected to it.

He moaned a bit louder when Connor hastily and clumsily wrapped his hand around him again, started jerking him off almost roughly to make the feeling somewhat mutual, although he came with a deep guttural moan only seconds later, a bit too soon for his own liking. Back in the old days this had been the most disgusting and humiliating part of it all, and although it still creeped him a bit out Daryl caught himself feeling it to be actually pretty intimate and almost _erotic_ , the realization only spurring him on, just like Connor’s labored post-orgasm breathing. It took the Irishman a considerably shorter time to get himself back together, be more rational and down to earth after the endeavor, and Daryl really appreciated when his friend immediately pulled out and instead focused his last bit of strength on getting him off for a second time, too.

Daryl started shaking pretty hard for just a moment, both from the intense pleasure, but also from the cold. He yanked his head to the side with his eyes still closed and craned his neck, exposing the thick pounding veins there. He ended up reaching for Connor’s hand on his dick and then tightened it around them, intensifying the pressure and determining the rhythm. It was hard to come so soon after the first time but they eventually managed together, drawing only a weak and breathy moan out of Daryl as he spilled between them, staining their shirts and ending it in a bit of a mess.

Connor let out a breathy chuckle and tried to get rid of it by using some of the leaves that were lying around, and when he was done, he eventually shifted off of Daryl and fell down beside him on the ground, lazily and almost powerlessly pulling his underwear and jeans back up with a exerted sigh. Daryl mirrored his actions a moment later and eventually pulled Connor’s jacket away from underneath him, lazily throwing it at the Irishman because it was impossible for him to move his limbs normally otherwise, and because he didn’t want him to be cold. Then he searched for his own clothes and got dressed from the waist down again.

The Irishman checked for any suspicious stains and eventually put it back on, appreciating that he had it back because with all the sweat and cooling off, he really was starting to get cold. After a while of just silently lying next to each other Connor eventually searched said jacket for his last couple of cigarettes and lit two. Daryl scratched his backside in the meantime, pulling a face.

“My ass is freakin itchy” he complained and Connor started laughing, nearly spitting his cigarette out.

He properly laughed and closed his eyes for a moment, giving in to the full hearted laugh while Daryl turned his head to look at him with a smile.

“What?” he asked but eventually chuckled, too.

“It was yer fuckin idea” Connor just said with a shrug and then handed Daryl a lit cigarette.

The hunter took it with that smirk and eventually looked back up at the swaying trees and the night sky, actually feeling relaxed and comfortable, the post-orgasm bliss still rushing through his limbs.

“You good?” the older of the two eventually asked, turning his head after a moment. Daryl wouldn’t look at him at first as he considered this.

“Ye were pretty freaking tense, I mean” Connor went on and scratched his head a little. “I mean ye know I wasn’ a big fan of all this at first.” He shifted and then cleared his throat awkwardly. “Haven’t really done this shit before with someone with that kinda backstory and… …I mean I’m usually good with chicks with experience, real good actually, but…. ‘m just wondering..” he rambled.

Daryl turned his head, actually battling a smirk that almost dared to break through.

Connor freaking MacManus. Actually unsure of himself for once because he had done it with a ‘virgin’, even worse, with a man. Of course he was one of those guys overthinking shit, with the ‘how was I’ talk to boost his fragile ego even more. He almost wanted to laugh at him. Almost. But instead, he decided to be honest and laid back.  
  
“’m good, alright” he said, looking Connor in the eye. “’m good” he repeated and nodded. Connor just looked at him, cautiously and questioningly.

“Really” the hunter went on, having noticed that look and eventually looked back up at the night sky, the smirk slowly returning.

“Next time I do the fuckin again and you get the itchy ass, though.”

Connor laughed and took a drag on his cigarette, smirking, then blowing out some smoke.

“Serves ye right fer probably giving me bark marks on my junk after tha tree stunt.”

Daryl snickered as well and they both shook their heads.

Connor smiled contently and watched his blown out smoke disappear into the night. They both just lay there for a moment longer, enjoying the quietness, the new development in their relationship, the fact that they both finally felt at peace together, _happy_ together.

They were oblivious to the fact that in the far distance, there was a black old car driving down a road at low speed, the red tail lights illuminating the surrounding woods. The driver of the car and his companion didn't know they were there either, in the dark distance, as they were looking for something else. A group of people, by a church, people that were surrounding their targets, keeping them protected for now. They were waiting for the right moment to make their move, the right moment to finally get them back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at these babies, how far they've come. I gotta say, I'm kinda proud of this chapter because there is so much character and relationship growth going on. Although I've always loved angsty, violent, bickering Connaryl, I gotta say I also enjoyed writing them as much more matured and confident with each other in this chapter, how you enjoyed that as well. Lemme know what you think.
> 
> *sighs* Happy endings, right? They're so beautiful...except that this is my fic series...and the Walking Dead...and the apocalypse...and there is no happy endings...I mean WHAT? *coughs* No, this series is all puppies and kittens and love sweet love. *heheheheheh*


	7. Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a new chapter! The one before this caused quite the commotion, I hope this one is a little less controversial ;) Just kidding, thank you for ALL the comments, both good and criticizing, I live for them and I really appreciate the fact that you guys take the time to get me to think about my own writing so I can improve or keep going, so always keep them coming if you wanna!
> 
> Anyway, with this chapter we're sloooooowly getting closer to the finale! Don't worry, it'll probably be another 5-10 chapters (I'm really bad at the whole estimating thing though lmao), but things are getting heated up now!

They were making their way down the abandoned streets of Jackson, in search for the gas station and auto repair shop that had to be nearby just like father Gabriel had said. They weren’t the only ones on the move, Rick, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, Tara, Carol and Tyreese were on the lookout too, scattered across town as they looked for more supplies and ammunition. Connor, Daryl and Murphy were on a new quest with their walk towards the gas station, the quest being a search for fitting spare parts and other necessary tools to get the bus from the church going again. Daryl was the one with the mechanic’s knowledge, and it went without saying that the MacManus twins were on his team. Connor still wasn’t too fond of the fact that the bus was going to take them straight to D.C. and some fake scientists once Daryl was done, but he tried to force himself not to ponder on it too much.

Because he was feeling much better, enjoying his own happiness, the return of his brother’s friend and how everything had played out after the Terminus ordeal.

Speaking of Murphy. He turned his head a little to the side to shoot his twin a look, who was walking next to him and keeping an eye out on their surroundings. Daryl was having the lead up front since he was great with directions and scouting and knew what they were looking for. Murphy didn’t seem troubled or lost in some thinking world, once again so very much unlike Connor, and that made the older MacManus twin even happier.

Murphy looked content, even better, almost at peace. It was still very obvious that the reconnection with his friend from Massachusetts and the rediscovery of their group after Woodbury’s fall, as well as the fact that Sam had survived for a second time now, had really strengthened his faith and happiness even more. Murphy, having noticed Connor’s thinking and staring through their mental connection that was slowly coming back, eventually turned his head and looked at Connor. He muttered an amused “What?”, because he wanted to know what was on his sibling’s mind this time.

Connor smirked and chuckled a little, allowing himself to shrug.

“Nothin. Just happy fer ye that ye got yer chick back” he said truthfully, making Murphy smirk right back.

The younger twin lazily walked a bit further to the right to bump into Connor, nudging and shoving him slightly.

“Same here” he teased and Connor laughed. As if he could sense what was going on and what they were talking about, Daryl turned his head for a moment to shoot them a curious but still slightly grumpy look over his shoulder. But right now he didn’t really want to talk or get annoyed by Connor’s joking and babbling again, so he decided to concentrate on their search instead.

“Aye, I got me girlfriend back, too, just fine” Connor answered, laughing, looking at Daryl’s back in amusement.

“It really is a fuckin sign, though, isn’t it” Murphy mused after a moment, making Connor look at him.

Murphy looked determined and nodded. “Everything. Can feel it. Somethin’s changing.”

Connor’s mood dropped a tiny bit as this got him thinking again, but he still ended up nodding.

“Aye” he simply agreed, deciding to keep some of his still present worries to himself just so he wouldn’t spoil anyone’s mood. Or make Murphy worry for that matter. Because despite his optimism and happiness, he still remembered that Murphy _had_ looked worried yesterday evening at the announcement about D.C., too, and Murphy certainly _had_ voiced his concerns regarding the immunity and scientist topic more than once as well. Augusta and Savannah were still deep in their minds and bones after all. Something was coming, he was sure of it, too. And he certainly felt it, too. He just hoped that it really was something good, something connected to god and all the given signs.

“Can I ask ye something, Connor?” Murphy suddenly asked, snapping the blonde right out of his train of thought.

“Aye, ‘f course. Don’t have ta ask, silly” Connor answered with a little eyeroll and scoff, only to look at his twin curiously.

Murphy chewed on his lip a little nervously until he kept talking.

“If we get ta Washington…if they find something and if we survive and everything changes…if tha all works out and stuff…Would it be weird if I asked Sam t’marry me? Already?” he said and then kicked a stone a way as he looked down, laughing a little and rubbing the scar on his forehead. “I mean, she only just lost her husband Mike not too long ago…and we’ve only known each other fer a couple of months. And the whole being t’gether and sleepin with each other and getting t’know each other’s only been going on fer a couple weeks…so it got me wondering..”

Connor suddenly stopped walking and looked at Murphy in what almost looked like shock, which confused his brother and slowly made him stop as well. Murphy frowned and responded with a confused “What?”, but Connor just stood and stared for a moment longer until he snorted once, only to end up chuckling, then laughing gently.

“What?!” Murphy asked again, feeling like this was Connor mocking him and making fun of him again.

“Hey y’know what, fuck ye, at least I got te guts t’be fer real with this shit and don’t spend me days fockin mockin everybody like a five year old” Murphy said after a moment and shoved Connor when he didn’t get an answer. Connor shoved him back, still laughing, but ended up holding on to his shirt.

“Murph! Murph, c’mon wait a sec and listen t’Connor” he said, still overly giggly, which just made Murphy angrier.

“No, yer fuckin laughing.”

“I’m laughing cos I’m fuckin _happy_ , alright? Jesus, fuck, Murph, hold up” Connor said and successfully stopped Murphy from scowling at him and shoving him in sheer protest. Connor simply held on to his siblings arms as his hands were still clutching to his jacket. “I mean, are ye shitting me? Why do ye even have ta ask me here?” the older of the two siblings went on and Murphy’s grip on him relaxed as he ended up giving him a confused frown. “Murph…Macho Murph, sweet brother dear” Connor said and laughed once again, only to gently slap Murphy’s cheek and pat his shoulder. He beamed an overly joyous grin at him but ended up laughing yet again as he looked down to try and get himself back together.

“What t’hell are you clowns laughin at? Keep your cheers down!” Daryl, who had slowed down by now and was approaching them with a confused and angry frown, shouted as he fixed his eyes on Connor. Connor, who wouldn’t stop chuckling to himself while he patted a confused Murphy’s shoulder.

“So what te fuck’s that supposed t’mean? Is that a yes?” Murphy asked Connor in the meantime, just standing there. Daryl stopped in his tracks as well as he was curiously waiting for an answer to his question, but he was also impatiently waiting for them to catch up so they could get going. Instead of answering Murphy right away Connor turned around to look at Daryl instead, grinning at him.

“Murph’s thinking ‘bout getting fuckin married!” he shouted back with that grin, which just made Daryl scoff. The hunter looked at Murphy for a moment and gave him an acknowledging nod, but then he turned around again to keep walking.

“Hey, how ‘bout we make it a double feature while we’re at it? Oi! Honeybunch! Wanna marry me, too?” Connor kept shouting at Daryl in the distance. Murphy shoved Connor angrily, kicked his butt once and got going as well with an annoyed “Yer a fuckin asshole.” Daryl answered his friend's suggestion with a very sympathetic “Get fucked!” and middle finger that was aimed at Connor as well.

Connor kept chuckling to himself for a moment longer and shook his head, staring at Murphy’s back with intense pride. He then finally jogged after his twin and got himself together. “Murph, wait, wait. ‘m sorry. Ye just flashed me, alright” he said, grabbing him by his shoulder to stop him from walking. Murphy did stop walking and rolled his eyes, folding his arms. He gave Connor a slightly annoyed look but seemed willing enough to listen. Connor was still grinning but no longer laughed. Instead, he got back to touching and patting Murphy, which annoyed the younger even more and made him avoid the touch with an eyeroll. Connor eventually truly calmed down and nodded at their surroundings.

“Fuckin look aroundche, Murph. The world is fucked. Yesterday ye thought he might’ve lost her t’walkers or cannibals or some shit. And yer seriously wondering if it’s weird ta ask her ta marry you?”

Murphy looked around, observed the abandoned houses, the burned down rumble of a building in the distance, the abandoned cars and trash and bodies everywhere. Eventually, he scoffed once and looked down, nodding.

“Yeah, yer right.”

“Damn right, I always am. I tell ye, you go right fuckin ahead and get that woman while ye both still can” Connor said and patted his sibling’s shoulder once again. But he ended up chuckling once more and pulled Murphy into a happy hug. Murphy huffed in surprise and writhed at first, still feeling somewhat uncomfortable around Connor every once in a while because of the shot, but eventually, he relaxed and hugged back, patting Connor’s shoulder and gently chuckling, too.

“Ma’d be so fuckin proud and happy right now” Connor breathed after a moment and looked up at the sky, knowing that she was probably watching. Murphy wouldn’t say anything to that and instead felt a hard ping of sadness and guilt because he couldn’t remember her, didn’t even know what she’d looked like or sounded like. He only had Connor’s stories and memories, but even with all that, he was still sure and knew that she would have been just that. And that idea alone made him smile and a bit happier again, if only slightly.

“’ _m_ fuckin proud’a ye” Connor then added and was actually very surprised by his reaction and thoughts, now that he came to think of it. Up until now, he’d reacted on basic emotion and instinct, said only truthful things, and these exact things were only just now dawning on him. He knew that not even two years ago, a big part of him probably wouldn’t have felt like this. He knew that not only two years ago, before the outbreak, he would’ve panicked on the inside. Felt incredible jealously, feared abandonment.

He knew that they were still very codependent and way too attached. Especially and even more so him, now more than ever. Marriage, women, relationships, family other than themselves, those things had never been on the table before the fall. Never would have been, and if they had, they would have been painful and very unhealthy, a danger to him, not a joy.

Strangely enough, now, after a year of separation from Murphy, after having grown to be a man of his own, finding Daryl and having a functioning somewhat healthy relationship of his own, Connor was surprisingly and finally comfortable with the very prospect of seeing his brother with someone else. Now, his joy was genuine. A ping of jealousy and fear of complete abandonment would always be there, but in a healthy amount that was certainly overshadowed by very honest pride and happiness right now, which pretty much made him proud of himself as well.

If he was honest, he didn’t really care much about Samantha. He would’ve been completely indifferent to her further disappearance or death or whatever. He didn’t see her as a true threat or person of interest or significance no matter which scenario. But even with all that, he appreciated her, appreciated having her around simply because she made Murphy _happy_. A part of him knew that maybe Murphy didn't love her _overly_ much as well, probably never could, too, but he certainly seemed to want the attachment, something similiar to what he had with Daryl, just like Murphy had told him by the campfire two days ago.

He knew that Murphy needed her no matter what. She was a new piece of something that Murphy had once seen within him but that had been lost with that headshot in Boston. A piece that was missing in Connor now but which he had found in Samantha instead. Now, Murphy needed those things with _two_ important people in his life instead of it being united in just one person. Now it was split. Blood and family in Connor, companionship, tight relationship and lifelong trusted partnership in Samantha. A much healthier combination and the way it was meant to be. They both knew it. They both saw it. After all, Connor had found the same combination and adjustment with Daryl and Murphy now.

And now, more than ever, the idea of the MacManus clan not dying out with their deaths, the idea of an expansion and continuation of the MacManus legacy with Samantha and that possible marriage plus possible future children, really was appealing to Connor. Which was exactly why he did no longer consider her as a threat to their relationship and family but saw her as a great possible blessing instead.

After all, after Murphy’s ‘death’ during the past year, this - seeing Murphy have a family, maybe become a husband and father, have a future - had been Connor’s dearest wish for an ‘alternate’ _better_ reality, one that now seemed to come to life. So damn yes he was no longer terrified of the words ‘marriage’, ‘woman’ ‘serious relationship’ and ‘Murphy’ being in one sentence. So instead he hugged and grinned and was genuinely happy and excited.

He didn’t really notice it simply because he was so lost in his thinking world again, but Murphy really responded to the fact that he had said that _he_ was proud of him, and that was something that actually surprised Murphy as well. They still had their ups and downs. _He_ still had his ups and downs with Connor. Had some bad dreams about Boston and the headshot every once in a while, had actually secretly feared Connor every once in a while with his sheer wrath and violence and obsessive behavior over anything connected to him and their brotherhood. After all these weeks and troubles together and his brother being so _dark_ every now and then, he still simply didn’t _want_ to forgive Connor sometimes, make it easy for him, pretend that they were still best friends and brothers forever like nothing had ever happened.

He wasn’t naïve. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that something was still damaged and lost between them and inside each of them, always would be, that they would never truly go back to the way they had been before that day in Boston, before the fall. The easiest explanation for it was that he simply couldn’t remember, never would. But that aside, he honestly and deeply _appreciated_ Connor’s reaction right now, the hug, but most of all, these words.

_I’m proud of you._

It felt _so_ good to have this boost of confidence, this kind of backing and honest appreciation of his decision and future. It made him incredibly happy to know that despite everything, despite the immunity and Washington and end of the world and death and decay and destruction scenario, he _still_ had this and _always_ would have this now. Family. His brother. Having his back. Loving him unconditionally despite his own troubles and darkness. Always giving him hope and appreciating his sheer existence. Connor being proud of him - this was everything to Murphy, was incredibly important to him, and actually, a lot more meaningful to him than his dead mother’s thoughts. No matter how cruel it sounded, he sadly simply couldn’t remember her and didn’t feel much because of it, so it was only natural to him that Connor trigged true emotions instead. He still would never admit it or say it out loud with his troll of a brother around, but moments like this one made him absolutely _sure_ that Connor was and always would be his big brother. His big brother was proud of him and that meant the world.

The hug only lasted for a couple of seconds and then Connor let go, so they could both grin at each other a final time and get going. They started walking and tried to catch up to Daryl, both lost in their own thinking world, until Connor slowly got more serious again. They had almost reached the gas station and repair shop that Daryl was already inspecting from the outside. He had found a car close to the front entrance and got ready to check its interior for anything useful.

Connor knew that as soon as they found the parts and gas and everything they needed for Washington they would mark what could probably be the most important next part of their journey yet, so he needed to get it off his chest before the stones were put in motion to play their parts. “Listen Murph. Washington is going ta work out no matter what we come across up there, alright?” he said because he was actually starting to believe that, too, although for entirely different reasons that were notconnected to Murphy’s, Daryl’s or Rick’s prep talk from yesterday.

“Shit is gonna work out, yer gonna ask that woman t’be with ye and she better fuckin say yes” he said, which made Murphy laugh with a shake of his head and amused “Oh shut up.”

“No I mean it. Listen t’me. One more thing” Connor said and slowed down once again. Murphy frowned a little and slowed down, too, having noticed the sudden shift in his brother’s mood, how his joking and pranking and annoying overly joyous self was suddenly replaced with the serious, almost cold and calculating Connor. “If shit goes down in Washington, if something goes wrong and we got another Augusta situation, you grab her and the child and you leave and you marry her some day and keep going and you’re gonna be fuckin happy with her” Connor said, matter of factly.

“Conn…”  
  
“No. Let me finish” the older of the two said and immediately shut his twin up almost angrily.

“Abraham and mullet guy don’t really know about ye yet. Maybe they figured with te scar on yer head, maybe Abraham wondered if yer the same when ye came running fer me and Daryl in that slime hole t’help, I don’t know. If he’s too stupid t’consider this and if mullet guy is a fraud or even if he isn’t, ye keep yer bite and yer immunity to yerself. And you keep it that way even when we’re in Washington. They know about me fer sure, we don’t know if they know about ye. So far they only said that they wanna take _me_ there. And that’s te way it’s gonna be.”

Murphy almost immediately looked stubborn and angry, wanted to say something, but Connor kept talking and shutting him down to get his point across.

“If all of this is real, if this is _happening_ , if this immunity thing finally pays off and…” he swallowed once and licked his lips, momentarily looking at Daryl who had opened the hood of the car by now to check it out. “If someone has ta _die_ t’find these people a cure, then it’s gonna be me.”

“Don’t talk stupid. No one’s gonna die” Murphy said angrily, but not because he was stubborn or filled with temper, he did it because he _meant_ it.

“Just _promise_ me. Yer gonna think all about yerself. And her. And that kid. And however many fuckin kids yer gonna have in the future because of this marriage thing ye wanna do. The immunity, the scientists, the cure, dat’s up t’me.”

“Jesus, I know what this fuckin is about” Murphy growled and frowned angrily, glaring at Connor. “If ye think that by foolishly getting yerself killed t’protect me is some sorta penance or quid pro quo fer the thing in Boston, then…”

“This isn’t about fucking Boston” Connor said, matter of factly. “I’m saying this and fuckin mean it because yer my brother, and because you just told me that a bright future is very much fuckin likely fer you and I _want_ that t’happen no matter what.”

“Exactly, yer my fuckin brother and I told ye because I want ye ta fuckin _be_ there if it gets ta it.”

“I know. And I plan t’fuckin be there and I better be yer best man, ye little shit” Connor said, gently hitting the back of Murphy’s head, which made him writhe but chuckle. Connor eventually stared at Daryl again who was fiddling about with the car’s engine, back turned on them and oblivious to their talk.

“I’m just planning ahead fer every possible scenario, alright. ‘m not being pessimistic, in fact, ‘m more optimistic than I’ve ever been lately. I don’t _wanna_ die. Not fer a long time. I know that we’ve handled stuff that was way worse and that’s not it. I know it’s way more likely that we’ll get t’flee, fight, keep going. But it still needs ta be said and it needs ta be considered.”

“Con” Murphy growled again, but Connor pointed at him with his finger instead and shut him up with a warning “Shut it.”

They turned it into a stare contest of some sorts, challenging each other, until Connor withdrew a bit, while still shooting a warning glare.

“No one’s gonna die anyway, so no need ta get huffy now” he said, and pointed at Murphy once more with a challenging look when Murphy seemed to want to say something, successfully shutting him up before the word got out. Daryl interrupted them with a cheery “BOOYAH” in the background when the car he’d been working on suddenly came to life with a roaring engine. He had a smoking cigarette in his mouth as he cheerfully clapped behind the wheel, obviously pleased with his skills. Both twins looked back at him for a moment, then Connor got going, gesturing a vague “what the fuck?” at his friend as he approached him.

Murphy stood a second longer, dumbfounded because it suddenly dawned on him how Connor had successfully shut him up with that stupid pointing finger of his. He got moving as well and jogged after his sibling.

“How te fuck’s my future any ‘brighter’ than yers?” he asked, utterly confused.

“Because fuck you, I know shit” Connor simply answered and kept walking.

Murphy snorted.

“Seriously? Is it just because of the marriage thing? Dude, compared t’me and Sam, you and Daryl? Are wayyy more textbook definition of old married couple already, so that can’t be it.”

“Har-dy-fuckin-har. Do ye hear anyone laughing? Cos I don’t” Connor just said and Murphy snickered, knowing that he had successfully annoyed his twin. Connor chose to ignore him and patted the hood of the car instead when they got close to Daryl who had only just closed it.

“Son of a bitch was already good to go, even has some gas in it. All it needed was some tweaking, got rid of some hair ‘n junk in the ventilation” the hunter announced and had a look around. “Whoever left it sure left in a hurry, found some rotten food and weapons in the trunk, clothes in the backseat, ain’t been here since the beginning” the hunter explained to Connor, who nodded as he rubbed his chin and observed the car a little closer. Daryl looked at Connor curiously and then shot Murphy a short look too, scoffing and spitting on the ground as he cleaned his oily hands with his red rag.

“You two finally done goin’ full Oprah back there?”

Murphy smirked and was just about to say something to mock Connor as well, but his sibling shut him off yet again.

“Well, at least we don’t have ta carry all the supplies and shit back t’the church this time. Nice work, we can use it fer easy transport” Connor simply said in regards to the car as he patted Daryl’s back once, hard. He then got going to observe the gas station a little closer.

“Didche find anything useful fer te bus yet?”

“Nope, but I’m thinkin that as soon as we…”

Daryl was interrupted by a loud THUMP against the glass door that marked the entrance to the gas station, where three walkers had piled up aand were pressing their blood rotten faces and hands against the panes. “…yep, as soon as we get rid of these sons of bitches we’ll find the stuff in the back of the building” Daryl said with a slight smirk as he took a drag on his cigarette and then looked at Murphy.

Connor followed the outline of the gas station to the right and let his gaze wander along the interior through the windows. He wasn’t surprised to find the gas station looted for the most part, water and food was gone just like Gabriel had said. But they weren’t exactly interested in those sorts of supplies right now. Instead, Connor took more interest in the car batteries and tools out back (and the old magazines, just be-fucking-cause).

“So, you gonna hook up with ginger, huh” Daryl surprisingly started a conversation with Murphy in the meantime as he patiently waited for his cigarette to be finished before it got back to the killing action. Murphy turned his head and looked at him, scoffing and then starting to walk with a grin as well.

“You wanna go Oprah, too? I was just gonna ask ye if ye wanna be her bridesmaid” the younger MacManus teased and Daryl snorted.

“Screw yah.”

Connor checked the back of the gas station in the meantime and eventually gave Murphy a whistle and nod to let him know that he could let out the walkers so they could kill them. Daryl dropped his cigarette and stepped on it while he got up from the hood of the car and grabbed his crossbow. Murphy positioned himself in front of the door and looked back, patiently waiting for Connor to come back and for Daryl to get ready with his crossbow, too.

When Connor was ready and Daryl gave him the final nod Murphy moved and pulled the door open as fast and abruptly as he could, making the walkers stumble out of the gas station. Murphy, ever so quick and agile yet clumsy, dodged out of their way so Daryl could take the first shot with his crossbow, landing the arrow right between the eyes of the old male walker in the middle, a man that had once been a farmer of some sorts. Connor took out the next walker to the left, approaching her from the side and burrowing the blade of his knife in the back of her skull when she tried to stumble towards Daryl with loud and dry growls. Murphy took out the last walker to the right just about the same a moment later, letting him drop to the ground once the stab to the back of his head ended him. Then he quickly entered the gas station after Connor, while Daryl stayed outside until the last minute to give them cover, by the doors.

There was one more walker in the far back of the station, although they weren’t even sure anymore if he could be considered a walker. At least 70 per cent of his flesh and body had been eaten. He was only a pile of dried blood, bones and partially fleshy moving arms and a head. His snarls and growls were especially hollow and dry because large portions of his windpipe and throat were missing, undoubtedly ripped out and devoured by the three walkers that had been trapped in here with him.

Connor knelt down and ended the miserable moving heap with a content stab to his head while Murphy gloomily observed the much smaller heap of devoured flesh and bones beside the walker that the blonde had just ended. The bones and slowly rotting remains of blood and left over muscle tissue that had once been a child’s arm were still outstretched toward the former man’s body beside it. Connor observed it, too, for a moment, knowing just like Murphy that this small pile of bones and flesh had once been a child, probably even belonged to the man. Connor shook his head and took a deep breath, only to keep walking and get started with their search for the tools instead.

Murphy stood a moment longer and was joined by Daryl, the both of them observing the remains of the child.

Eventually, Daryl spoke, although it was more of an acknowledging mutter.

“Car got stuffed animals in the trunk” he said, looking at the remains. “Blood and skin ain’t too old and rotten. Looks like we owe ‘em our ride and gas out there” he went on and eventually got going with a little scoff. No matter how many times he saw it, fates like this, they would always get to him no matter what. They upset him a bit, they made him feel sorry a bit, but most of all, they made him angry. But just like anybody else he had become fairly great at taking it in, acknowledging it, remembering that the world was shit, and then moving on. He kept going and followed Connor into the back of the gas station through the door, knowing that this was where the car repair shop with all the important stuff was, that he was needed a lot more back there then in here with some rotting bodies.

“Keep a look out for any uninvited pricks” was all he said to Murphy before he disappeared into the dark with his crossbow drawn.

Murphy nodded and looked up after a moment, eyeing their surroundings through the windows as he made his way down the aisle back towards the entrance, but sooner or later, he found himself staring back at the child’s corpse yet again. He chewed on his lips, wondering if it made him angry or upset. He hated the look of this mess, the smell, the constant reminder that despite their own outcomes and luck, the world still was and always would be shit. He let out a little sigh and decided to make his way back outside instead, so he could keep a better eye out and check the gas pumps and immediate surroundings of the gas station for more useful things.

He wandered about, looking curiously at the gas prices only to smirk at the ridiculous numbers that reminded him of how crazy society had gotten during the breakdown of the economy and all the infrastructure. He decided to take one of the hoses that had once been used to wash the cars and cut it up to larger pieces with his bowie knife, so he could use them to siphon gas. Next on the list was a gas can so he circled back, checked the sides of the gas pumps, the close metal shelves and cabinets, until he ended up checking the trunk of the car that Daryl had been working on when he remembered the supplies.

Murphy stilled and pressed his lips together as soon as he opened the trunk. He could see all sorts of things. Rotten supplies, water bottles, a few weapons and ammo, two gas cans…a stuffed pony, just like Daryl had said. He kept his eyes fixed on that for a while, raising his head after a moment to look back at the gas station where he knew the bodies were.

He chewed on his lower lip until it almost bleed and hurt, then forced himself to toughen up. He grabbed the two gas cans instead and then closed the trunk shut. He stuck the pieces of the hose between his belt and jeans and then grabbed the gas cans with both his hands to get going, to check each gas pump and nearby cars for whatever was left, while continuously keeping a lookout just like Daryl had told him to.

* * *

 

The repair shop was almost completely dark, since all the doors were shut and only a bunch of very small top light windows allowed the sun to shine in here. Connor had turned his flashlight on and held it in his one hand while he held his knife with the other, shining the light beam at the surrounding shelves, the car that was still on the lifting platform, the tires and tools that were scattered all over the place. Just like in the front area there were two half eaten dead bodies in here, but they couldn’t see or hear anything moving.

Connor gave silent instructions with his hand that held the flashlight to let Daryl know that he was supposed to go right of the car while he took the left side. After a few minutes of silent walking and listening they eventually relaxed a bit. Connor whistled once and lowered his knife. To his right he could hear that Daryl was doing the same with is crossbow as well. Connor got out of his cautious battle mode and instead focused his attention on their search.

“Anything useful?” he asked after a moment, surprised how loud his voice was in here. He turned around and shone his flashlight past the car all the way to the other side of the garage where Daryl was searching the workbenches, sorting through metallic stuff and moving it about with clattering noise.

“Hmhm, place’s just fine. Looks like the old pope guy’s good for something.”

Connor searched around some, too, grabbed the oil they needed and a few other things, a big wrench and a hammer as future possible weapons. Daryl eventually walked up to him and placed himself next to Connor by the cabinets and shelves. He was searching the place with precision and that certain look of his on his face, and when Connor saw it against the dark background, he eventually smirked a bit and then concentrated on the tools again.

“How come ye never fuckin became a mechanic or some shit. Could totally see it in ye with the motorbike ‘n everything” the Irishman wondered and Daryl snorted.

“Cos it ain’t ever been on the table” the hunter muttered and shook a strange metal cylinder close to his ear to check its contents. He then just threw it away and shrugged.

“No time, no money, ain’t been to school. Besides, didn’t need no job or ‘training’ t’fix bikes.”

Connor snorted once and shook his head. He knew that his friend was actually a whole lot smarter and intelligent than one might think. If things had been different for him and if he’d had the support from his family the way he and Murphy had been supported and motivated by their mother, he was sure Daryl really could’ve been something back in the day. It was so grotesque to think about how completely different their education and training and life had been back in the day, but how they had still pretty much ended up the same.

Daryl smirked a tiny bit as he shot a quick look at Connor by his side.

“How come you ain’t whining ‘bout your bro and ginger?”

Connor moved to the side so he could bump into him a bit harshly with his hip.

“Shut it, cos there’s no reason fer it.”

“Oh yeah? Last I remember, you didn’t even let the guy join any scouting missions and didn’t even let him outta the house cos you were some jealous bitch as soon as he was ‘round people.”

Connor just scoffed but wouldn’t answer. Daryl smirked a little more and put some tools and useful things in his bag, deciding to let it go. But he really was glad and happy that Connor wasn’t bugging him with it, even better, that his friend seriously seemed to have moved forward in general, regarding the entire Murphy topic. He looked to the side for a final time to study Connor’s face, but his friend was currently looking to the other side and scanning the shelves on the side wall with his flashlight pointed at them. It was then when Daryl noticed another important tool and piece, so he walked past his friend and half placed himself behind him. He put his hands on Connor’s hips to pull himself to the side and then reached for one of the top shelves to get the stuff he needed.

Connor snorted once and then chuckled.

“Be any less fuckin subtle” he teased and Daryl stilled, looking at the back of Connor’s head, until he smirked, too.

“Don’t think t’high of yahself, just gettin the shit we need” he muttered, but maybe he did dig the fingers of his left hand a little more into Connor’s side as he held on to him for support. He let out a breathy chuckle when his friend writhed a bit and then moved his hips, obviously to tease a little more, deadly on point. Daryl got extra close and lowered the piece from the shelf onto the table, momentarily stilling and breathing hot into Connor’s neck and right ear, until he simply moved again and placed the part in the bag instead and let go, moving away.

“Fucker” Connor chuckled and turned his head to the side to look at Daryl, who just gave him an almost cocky grin. The hunter simply got back to his other bag and started going through the list for a final time, to check if they had everything, the flashlight in his mouth and shining down at the small piece of paper. Connor turned around and lazily leaned against the workbench, folding his arms and watching Daryl. He eventually had a content smirk on his face again and shifted from one foot to the next.

“Y’know that as soon as we’re on te road to D.C. and as soon as we get t’this place Eugene was talking ‘bout, shit’s gonna get more complicated, right” he said after a while and Daryl turned his head to look at him, blinding him with the flashlight that was still in his mouth. But despite the blinding, Connor still went on. “Like 15 or more people around us all the time, sleepin in a tight bus or out in the open with people everywhere...”

Daryl looked at him a little longer and then snorted, taking the flashlight out of his mouth.

“Worked yesterday, didn’t it” he just said and then knelt down to get the bag.

“And here we are” Connor went on, the grin growing only wider, challenging. Daryl got up and looked at him, only to shake his head with a scoff and slight smirk. They didn’t get to talk anymore because they suddenly heard a car somewhere outside, startling them and making them look to the side and listen up. It seemed to be close and getting closer still, at an alarming speed. Connor and Daryl shot a look at each other, and the Irishman was the first to speak it out.

“Dude is tha a fuckin car?” he said, listening, but there was no doubt. It seemed to be coming from further left, definitely not from in front of the gas station where they knew their working car was. A second later, they heard gunshots. Then yelling and the sounds of a fight.

“GET YER FOCKIN MITTS OFF OF ME!” Murphy was yelling outside, then there was some more struggling and fighting noise and the screeching of tires. Connor’s eyes widened in sheer surprise and horror, and he was only a split second away from shouting his brother’s name in complete panic. But before it got to it Daryl immediately darted forward and pressed his hand to Connor’s mouth, to shut him up with an angry shushing noise and meaningful look.

Connor knew what it meant. He was supposed to shut up so they wouldn’t give their position away. But he was still incredibly tense and freaking out. He struggled very hard, grabbed his gun and knife and the look on his face changed almost immediately. The panic was gone and replaced with intense rage and a murderous glare as he got moving, without a sound.

Murphy still seemed to be yelling and fighting hard outside as there were lots of glittering noises, the sound of breaking glass and possible bodies hitting the hard surface of a car. Both Connor and Daryl started running, leaving the garage and entering the front sales area again. They could soon see the struggle through the windows, the harsh fight by their car as Murphy was battling two attackers at once. Attackers who were wearing _army clothing_.

One was holding him in a headlock from behind while the other tried to approach him, but Murphy first kicked the man in front of him in the guts and then angrily elbowed the other one behind him, successfully freeing himself and running for his gun on the ground. He yelled an angry “CONNOR! DARYL!” and then fell to the ground when the one he had kicked grabbed him by his leg and tackled him to the ground.

“MURPH!” Connor finally yelled back, still running and zigzagging his way through the sales shelves with his weapon drawn. He shot his Beretta and broke the window, trying to hit one of the assailants but missed. The two soldiers immediately looked up and the taller one that had received the elbow blow fired back in an instant, making Connor duck down for cover, just like Daryl behind him.

Murphy yelped once, loudly, and Connor only caught a glimpse of the slimmer man who had tackled his twin down, how he emptied a syringe into Murphy’s neck. Murphy still struggled hard but slowly slumped together under the influence of the substance, making Connor yell and lose it even more. Connor kept running towards the front doors half crouched down even though they were under heavy gunfire by the other man.

But it was still too late.

Because then the car they had heard came to a screeching halt right next Murphy and the men with even more fire power through the window, scattering each and every one of the glass windows and doors of the gas station to keep Connor and Daryl inside.

“MURPH! NO! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!” Connor yelled and kept coming at them while Daryl stayed a bit further behind, taking cover behind one of the shelves as he somewhat patiently tried to take aim at the assailants with his crossbow. He did manage to shot an arrow and hit the guy who was dragging Murphy inside the car in the shoulder, making him scream and yelp and then dive into the backseat along with the now unconscious Irishman. The driver of the car, a man who was undoubtedly wearing a police uniform, and the third, taller man were still shooting at Connor as they gathered their things, then tall soldier got into the car as well. The gunfire finally stopped and the car sped forward, away from the gas station at full speed and with screeching tires.

Without even thinking or listening to Daryl Connor immediately got back up on his feet and started running, sprinting out of the gas station and after the car with an angry “HEY! GET BACK HERE!” He shot another bullet at it but only hit the trunk instead of a tire, yelling an incredibly enraged “FUCK!” a moment later as he kept sprinting. He could see the white cross all too clearly, taped to the rear window of the car, mocking him, reminding him that it had been around ever since that night after Terminus. Connor kept running and running but knew that it was pointless, because the car was almost out of sight given the speed it was going with. It was then when he finally heard another car, right behind him, coming to a screeching halt right in front of him, the passenger door swinging wide open only a couple seconds later.

“GET IN, HURRY!” Daryl yelled from inside, having taken their car from back at the gas station while Connor had been busy sprinting after his brother’s abductors. Connor kept running and then jumped inside the car, sitting down on the passenger seat right next to Daryl, chest heaving and completely out of breath as he swung the door shut. Daryl accelerated and got the car to full speed yet again.

“These motherfuckers I swear I’m gonna fucking kill them!” Connor yelled and kicked the dashboard extremely hard, absolutely losing it.

“I saw the fuckin cross on te back, it’s that same fuckin car we kept seein. I swear if they do something t’him I’ll…”

“I knew the guy I hit, I saw his face, I recognized them” Daryl raised his voice as he drove faster, pretty angry about the abduction, too, although now everything made a lot more sense.

“Well then who the fuck was it?!”

“You don't remember 'em?! These fuckers from Augusta! He was there the first day we got there when they took us to their shower rooms, he and this other guy got on my nerves. I fuckin knew that sooner or later they’d keep comin after you two dumbasses! We should’ve listened to the old fuck back in Augusta when he told us they ain’t gonna ever let you go as soon as they find out!”

“FUCK!” Connor yelled and kicked the dashboard once more, pressing his hand to his eyes for a moment to try and calm himself down, to think straight, but as soon as his eyes were closed, all he could see was that fucking syringe in their hands and Murphy on the ground. “I fuckin knew it!” he muttered to himself. He angrily let go of his face and looked up again, noticing with great dismay that the silhouette of the car in front of them was getting smaller and smaller by the second as it sped away.

“Go fuckin faster, wouldcha?!” Connor yelled angrily and glared at Daryl, who got angry as well.

“Fuck you, I’m goin as fast as this piece of shit can, I wanna get ‘im back, too, you asshole!” he yelled back and they both fell quiet, as they tried to concentrate on the chase. After a moment of awkward and tense silence Daryl spoke again.

“They’re headin’ towards interstate 85. I think they’re headin for Atlanta” he said after a while, which made Connor look at him with an angry frown.

“What?”

“They ain’t heading south-east. They’re goin north.”

“I don’t care where they’re fuckin goin, I just want my fuckin brother back, alright” Connor said and shifted, but his anger was slowly losing its pace. Instead, the fear was slowly starting to creep up on him, and Daryl noticed it almost immediately. He kept quiet for a very long while and until they reached the highway, but before he got to say something, Connor eventually spoke up again, somewhat calmer, but still sounding angry and freaked out.

“Ye sure it’s them?”

Daryl looked at him for a short moment but then concentrated on the road again when it took a sharp right turn.

“Yeah. It was the guy with the scar cross his cheek right here, ain’t been hard t’miss” he answered, pointing at his own cheek to show what he meant. "Fuck, shit happened so fast, I didn't even see shit" Connor growled and pressed his thumb to his forehead as he thought hard, shaking his head and gritting his teeth.

“If it’s them and they were after us because of the immunity shit, then they knew ‘bout you’n me in there. If they want their cure so fuckin bad, then why the fuck did they shoot at me? I mean t’them we’re real fuckin valuable, tha doesn’t make any fuckin sense.”

Daryl just shrugged and chewed on the inner side of his cheek, thinking it through.

“They got your bro. Better have one of yah and risk the other dead insteada losin yah both again?”

Connor scoffed and shook his head.

“Fuckin figures” he growled and thought all the information through a little longer. Then, it was slowly dawning on him.

“We gotta get t’them before they get’im to that location of theirs. They’re gonna fuckin pull it through this time otherwise. That surgery, tha research, they’re gonna fuckin kill ‘im over this if we don’t…”

“Hey” Daryl said angrily and shot a look at Connor, who eventually looked back at him.

“He’s gon’ make it” the hunter said and then fixed his eyes on the tiny car in the distance yet again.

“Done it before.”

“I know, just fuckin hurry, alright” Connor said, leaning back as he nervously tapped his fingers on his knee, trying to calm his nerves although he knew it was useless. His heart was pounding hard and his mind was spinning with thoughts. He forced himself to focus, forced himself to come up with a solution, a plan, anything they could do to help Murphy out of this mess. They sped down the interstate, driving around abandoned vehicles and shuffling corpses, hoping to stay close enough to the other car as they made their way back to the abandoned city of Atlanta in the distance.


	8. Liability

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with TWO new chapters this time! loooots of things happening here. I am also totally not sorry for the totally unneccesary slash in this chapter. I just needed to fit it in here and I am a very bad person and shitty writer and I'm not even sorry lmao

It had gotten dark outside by now, making it hard to see anything in the pitch black. The taillights of the car that had taken Murphy were barely visible in the distance now, as they made their way down interstate 85 in their pursuit. The dark outlines of abandoned skyscrapers in downtown Atlanta were slowly becoming more pronounced and larger in the distance, making it in fact more and more likely that Murphy was really being taken back to the city.

Connor hadn’t said a single word since their last conversation had ended god knows how long ago. He was staring outside the window, eyes fixed on the speeding vehicle up front. He looked fierce and dangerous again, but Daryl could also see a ping of mad fear and panic. Daryl didn’t like this at all, for so many reasons, and it made him angry as well. Sure, he was angry because Murphy had been taken, his friend, in an act of cowardice, that those people from Augusta were back.

But, and he _hated_ to be somewhat selfish here, he was mainly angry because it seemed to screw up their progress, screw up Connor all over again. They had been doing just _fine_ now. Connor had eased up a whole lot more. He’d been more optimistic again and even better, less freaking psycho. But here they were. Again. The same old game. Murphy was gone, Murphy was in trouble, and Connor, naturally, lost his shit all over again. Daryl wanted to talk but knew that this was a dangerous scenario right here, that they were both tense and that it wouldn’t take much to shoot them off like guns and get them back into the whole fighting business. But he wanted to talk, so he tried it with a somewhat neutral opener at least.

“People are gonna wonder where we went” he muttered, looking at Connor for a moment only to fix his eyes back on the road, snorting gently.

“Bet Sergeant Washington lost his shit by now, telling people we took off because of that scientist talk” he muttered and then started chewing on his thumbnail.

“Rick’s gonna be pissed.”

“We’ll send a fuckin postcard from Atlanta then, geez” Connor growled and shifted in his seat. “They’re the least of my fuckin problems right now.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow and tried to stay calm, although he hated the way Connor was acting like an asshole, right from the off.

“Ain’t my fault these assholes took ‘im” he just growled and Connor eventually let out a sigh.

“I know. They’ll manage. ‘s all I meant ta say. ‘m sure they can wait a day or two fer us t’come back.”

Daryl smirked a little and moved his elbow up so he could rest it on the window next to him.

“Yah really think so?”

“I fuckin hope so” Connor just muttered and eventually leaned back.

“As long as we don’t run outta gas” he said, having taken a look at the indicator. Daryl looked at it as well and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

“Nah, we’re good for a bit” he just said and Connor sighed.

“Why can’t this piece’a shit just go faster, man. This way we could pass ‘em, run them off the road and stop them before they even get anywhere.”

Daryl huffed.

“And full on crash and break our bones again like last time? Nah, leprechaun. Besides, you wanna freakin kill your bro in a car chase like that?”

“Well, we survived last time didn’ we” Connor muttered, although he knew all too well that it was a stupid idea.

“Yeah, barely” Daryl said with a snort, remembering everything that had happened after that last car crash, when he’d nearly freaking _died_. No. He was past that knee jerk stuff, and he knew that Connor was smart enough to do the same. “Maybe it’s good that we’re so far behind” the hunter then said, fixing his eyes on the extremely small taillights in the distance. “Let ‘em think they lost us. That way, we’re good t’follow them, find that new hideout of theirs, see how many there are now and what they can do. Then we plan this through and do what we gotta do t’get your bro back.”

Connor turned his head to look at Daryl, eventually smirking a little, although he actually didn’t quite feel like it.

“’m rubbing off on ye, aren’t I” he teased and eventually smiled.“Planning shit through, being smart about it insteada going full on redneck again.”

Daryl huffed and gave his friend a little eyeroll.

“Since when are yah smart…you’re just a dumbass. As dumb as y’all potatoes back in potato country.”

“Go fuck y’self” Connor said lazily, but he was smirking a bit.

Daryl did the same and they went back to being silent, losing themselves in their own thinking world yet again.

* * *

 

About half an hour later they entered the city of Atlanta, still on interstate 85. They still wouldn’t talk and it wasn’t exactly like Connor could or even wanted to. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth, felt his whole body tense and his hands forming tight fists as they got closer and closer to the city center. He could see the dark skyscrapers all too clearly now, even in the dead of night, how they were towering above the apocalyptic wasteland of the abandoned city.

It had been a really long time since he had been even close to any capital or major city. Sure, he and Daryl had been in Augusta, but Augusta was nothing compared to Atlanta, or even worse, the city he couldn’t stop thinking about now – Boston. The dark skyscrapers, the urban environment, the eerie silence and sheer wrongness of complete lack of life and movement in a place that had once been crowded with people sent a shiver down his spine. Not necessarily because it was creepy and scary, but mostly because of the memories that were coming back now.

Sure, most of his memories about Boston shouldn’t be _too_ bad now anymore considering that Murphy hadn’t really died there after all and was still alive and with him, but at the end of the day, Murphy was exactly the point. Because just like last year in Boston, he was now back in a large abandoned and very dangerous city, and just like in Boston, he had pretty much lost Murphy here now, too.

He didn’t like this. Not one bit.

He moved his hand on his leg and gripped the fabric of his jeans, clutching to it as he kept the hand balled to a tight fist. Daryl picked up on it but decided not to say anything regarding that, not just because he felt that Connor didn’t want to talk, but also because he now had to concentrate on the road, the city and his own thoughts instead. There were countless wreckages of cars and military vehicles blocking their path, just like the corpses, both dead and alive. He was glad that it wasn’t as bad as on the other side of i-85, the lanes that headed out of the city, because that part was absolutely gridlocked.

It was so strange to see that large traffic jam again, how nothing had changed. Just like Connor he didn’t like coming here either, for similar reasons. Last time he had been here, it had been all about Merle. Finding him, getting him back. Back then, last year, he had been a completely different man. To him it almost felt like returning back to his past as well, and he certainly didn’t like that either.

That, and the dark, silence, and danger, too.

He didn’t know if he was glad that all the lights were out or not. He hated it because it made navigating the streets so hard, but he actually also liked it because he didn’t even _want_ to see how many walkers were lurking out there, in the dark. More than five million people had lived here once. Probably twice the amount by the time they had set up all these emergency camps and told people from all over the county to come here for shelter and protection. He and Merle had followed those rumours as well after all.

Damn. That felt like it had happened a lifetime ago.

Most of all, even though he fought it hard and kept it under control, it made him miss Merle a _lot_. Being here without Merle, it just felt wrong. Being around more or less than five million walking corpses felt wrong as well, so he tried to focus on that instead, just so he wouldn’t get trapped in the still lingering pain over his dead brother.

The car they were following had slowed down by now, causing Daryl to turn off their lights and go slower as well. It just made things harder but seemed to be doing the trick, and maybe that was reason enough for him to settle on the fact that he liked the dark more now, that he needed to concentrate on just that. These people honestly didn’t seem to have a clue that they were still following them. Soon after they had left the interstate they were going slower and slower, until they suddenly stopped by one of the larger intersections, just standing there, until one of them got out of the car.

Daryl was still a bit away from the scene and was driving slower and slower just so the car wouldn’t make too much noise and get their attention, but Connor seemed to have other ideas. He suddenly got rid of his seatbelt and grabbed his guns with is one hand, while he used his other hand to reach for the door handle.

“Slow te fuck down. I’m getting these motherfuckers now” he said angrily and opened the door, but Daryl immediately moved to grab his friend with both his hands, losing grip of the steering wheel and clutch, causing their car to stall and go out. Connor had already opened the door but Daryl roughly pulled him back, causing Connor to pull the door shut along with the motion. The car kept rolling down the road until it came to a halt, half on the sidewalk but completely in the dark.

“Get your ass back in here” Daryl had whisper-shouted in the meantime, causing the both of them to momentarily look back at the car in front of them, to check whether they had been heard. One of the two soldier guys, obviously not the one Daryl had shot back at the gas station, had left the car and was moving trash and bikes around on the street next to the car. He didn’t even bother looking up, making it obvious that they hadn’t been seen and that Murphy’s abductors thought they had successfully lost them during the chase.

“Are ye shitting me? We could easily take ‘em on now. Shoot their tires, shoot te guy out there, end this fucking quick and get him back before they drive off!” Connor spat although it was still a somewhat whisper.

“If you start shooting or attacking now that guy’s just gonna floor it no matter what and we’re gonna lose ‘em by the time we get goin! They got a possible cure in the back of that car, do yah really believe they’re gonna care 'bout a screwed tire and wait for one of their guys now if we shoot ‘im up? They’re gone as soon as you shoot the first bullet” Daryl snapped back and Connor kicked the dashboard hard with an incredibly angry “Fuck!”

“Seriously, since when are yah so fuckin stupid?! I thought you always plan shit through first?!” Daryl went on and Connor hissed angrily. “Don’t ye think I fuckin know that?! In case ye didn’t notice before, I got a history of losing my shit over people taking my fuckin twin brother ye! Last time he got kidnapped I ripped a fuckin toilet outta the ground and threw it off a fuckin building! Do ye think I even wasted a single fuckin thought on planning anything there?! Fuck no!”

“Well, alright!”

“Alright!”

Connor took a deep angry breath and massaged the bridge of his nose for a moment, forcing himself to get himself back together, only to fix his eyes on the army man that was still doing something in the dark up front.

“Maybe they stopped cos they’re close. They're scientists and doctors looking fer a cure. So..reasearch. Healthcare. Yer the Georgia guy, is there a hospital or some shit ‘round here?” Connor asked, trying to scan their surroundings, but it was simply too dark. Daryl did the same but eventually shook his head.

“Not that I know of…” he muttered and then startled when something suddenly hit the window next to Connor. The Irishman flinched as well but then merely let out an angry growl, grabbing his knife. There was a walker by the window, snarling and scratching at the glass as he tried to get inside, clacking his teeth in Daryl’s direction. The hunter ignored the undead and kept his eyes fixed on the road and car up front instead, getting worried because the soldier suddenly slowed down and looked in their direction, eyes fixed on the walker that was getting noisier because he couldn’t get inside their car.

Connor was busy trying to lower the window so he could stab the walker when Daryl grabbed him by his arm again, stopping him and then nodding towards the soldier.

The man stood in the middle of the intersection a little longer, and when it looked like he was just about to walk in their direction he suddenly turned his head and looked the other way. Although it was hard to hear with all the noise the walker was making on their window, both Connor and Daryl could still hear the sounds of an approaching herd not too far from that intersection, getting closer in the dark.

The herd seemed to make the soldier forget about the single walker here in the back, because he then simply got back inside the car with Murphy in the back. The car whose engine was switched back on, whose taillights came back to life and illuminated the mocking white cross on the rear window. Then it got moving and took a right turn, down the street that the soldier had just cleared of trash and abandoned bikes. The car was slowly picking up speed as it drove away from the lingering danger in the dark.

“Looks like you haven’t reached your final destination” Connor said in a somewhat angry but mocking voice and then gently nudged Daryl. “Alright, let’s see where those fuckers lead us then. Get goin” he ordered and Daryl tried to start the engine but it wouldn’t give. Connor turned his head and looked at his friend in surprise. The hunter tried again but the engine kept sputtering.

“Aw shit” he said angrily, and tried again.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me” Connor said and stared, as if he could turn the engine on by just glaring at it, but it stayed dead.

Daryl eventually gave up for a moment, cursing.

“Tank’s empty. Fuck.”

“Well fuck indeed!” Connor said angrily and slammed the door open, shoving the walker back as he got out. He then quickly stabbed the undead and started running towards the intersection, trying to catch a glimpse of where the car was going and taking Murphy while Daryl still angrily tried to get their car moving again. But he knew it was useless, because they had been running on fumes for a while now and he simply hadn’t told Connor. Because of everything happening so fast, he hadn’t had the time to get more gas at the gas station, he simply had taken the car as it had been, and they had been damn lucky that there had been that much gas in the tank in the first place.

But now there was this.

Daryl angrily let go of the car keys and steering wheel and instead leaned back to get his crossbow and backpack. He then quickly exited the car and shot a look back. It was still almost impossible to see anything because it was so dark, but he didn’t need to see anything to know that they were there. He could hear them all around them, the undead, shuffling through dark streets and alleys and abandoned buildings.

They had been drawn to their location because of the car engines. Without a doubt. The city belonged to the dead now.It was usually completely silent, he was sure of it. So of course, any sort of noise in the dead of the night just had to draw them in. And of course, just like a typical fucking movie cliché, just like the tv shit Connor loved, they had to run out of gas NOW. He threw his crossbow over the backpack on his shoulder and then jogged towards Connor, who stood dead still in the middle of the intersection, staring into the distance.

In the direction where Daryl soon heard even more walkers.

They seemed to be coming from everywhere.

“I fuckin lost ‘em, they went that way somewhere, then took a turn and…shit” Connor said angrily and tried to make his way in the same direction the car had disappeared off to, but the herd or maybe even herd _s_ seemed to be coming from there, too, coming closer still.

Daryl nervously scanned their dark surroundings as well and then got his crossbow ready just in case. This felt a whole lot different than anything they had ever been through. This just felt _stupid_. It was nothing like roaming the woods or a small suburban town out in the middle of nowhere at night. This was the city. This was _bad._

“They’d have taken the bypass and they didn’t. Must be holed up in the city center somewhere. Can’t be too far” Daryl said, gently grasping Connor’s arm to try to get him to move. Connor kept staring into the distance and scanned the rest of the streets, but even he seemed to get it, too, that it was not smart to be out in the open like this. Especially since more and more walkers really were stumbling around the streets. Now they could actually and already see them, since they were so close by now.

“We gotta move, find some place to hole up til sunlight” Daryl said, staring back.

Connor felt his fury swell, the panic and longing to be reunited with his brother. A part of him really just wanted to fuck it and keep running, follow the street to the corner and intersection where he’d seen the car disappear. He knew that he could if he wanted to, just keep going and walk amongst all these walkers and get past them, becoming dangerous and deadly, a force they didn’t expect.

But he also knew that he had to think about Daryl, too. Daryl, his friend, who had come here with him after all, to look for Murphy, too. Daryl, who wanted to help but who certainly couldn’t just keep walking now. Because to him, this was slowing turning into insanity. Staying out here, with all these walkers, that was fucked up and dangerous. But here he was, Daryl, _still_ by his side. No matter how much he hated it, Connor knew that he owed his friend. Owed him safety and trust.

Although he did let out an angry growl, he eventually gave in.

“Let’s go. You know yer way around here a lot more than I do” he just said and then tried to walk in a direction that didn’t seem to be crowding with walkers.

* * *

 

Daryl was quickly and almost angrily working on the door and lock, trying to get it to open. Connor was watching his back, and after killing his fifth walker within less than three minutes, he was slowing having more and more doubts. He had just successfully stabbed a clumsily walker of a former teenager in the eye and dropped him to the ground when he turned his head, staring at Daryl by the door, who seemed to feel the glare.

The hunter muttered an angry “Almost got it” to let Connor know that he could handle it, that he wasn’t in the mood to argue yet again how it would be a much better idea if they just kept going to find fucking Murphy in the pitch dark.

Connor pressed his lips shut and decided not to say anything, not just because he equally didn’t want to fight, but also because he couldn’t. Because the next two walkers were already making their way across the street to get to Daryl with angry snarls. It was a vicious circle. Their movement, their snarling and walking in this direction, followed by the sounds of short combat and bodies dropping to the hard concrete always drew in more walkers from their surroundings. Not because of Connor, but because of Daryl, as if he were giving off a scent of living hot flesh and blood, their source of food across the entire city, drawing them in.

Connor approached them and quickly stabbed them as well, fighting them off and then letting go, chest heaving a bit because the constant stabbing of skulls was slowly getting exhausting. He looked back at Daryl who was still working on that door, until he eventually had enough. Connor sniffed once, wiped his nose and then approached Daryl. “Maybe we should just find a fuckin car” he said and looked back to make sure if the coast was clear now. Daryl ignored him and kept working on the lock.

“Find a car, get ye in there so ye can go back ta Rick and the others, tell them what’s going on, get them as backup and come back in the morning” he said and Daryl slowed down to look at Connor warily. “Yer right,they gotta be worried and it’s too dangerous right now with all these walkers. But it’s not dangerous fer me. I can keep going, use the dark as cover while I scout the area while yer gone ta get the others. Hopefully I find something in the meantime so that when yer back t’morrow morning, we can get this thing organized and going without anyone getting fuckin hurt” the Irishman went on.

Daryl just glared at Connor for a moment, not believing what he was hearing.

He got back to working on the lock again, a bit more forceful this time.

“I mean this way, we can get going a whole lot faster than this shit right here. It’s kinda stupid ta have ye run around this city when it’s crowded with dead ones that wanna eat ye. And it’s stupid ta stall and wait fer sunrise while they get further and further away here.”

Right then the lock on the door gave in though, allowing Daryl to swing it wide open. Instead of saying anything, calling Connor out on his bullshit and how he saw right through his, that this was Connor seeing him as _burden_ right now because he wasn’t immune and could be attacked, he simply muttered a dry “Got it” and entered the building.

Connor momentarily hesitated, trying to look inside the building Daryl had disappeared in to, then looked back towards the street where more walkers were already coming again. Just like Daryl he saw right through his friend, knew that Daryl knew what he’d been thinking about, what he was actually kind of suggesting. He knew that he could use this moment to just walk in the other direction, get back to the intersection. He could do what he’d been talking about, keep going, using the dark and the walkers as cover to probably get closer to the location where Murphy was being held. Without risking Daryl, without having to worry about his friend getting attacked or bit over this.

He could, but he wouldn’t.

Sure. Murphy still mattered _a lot_. Murphy was still his _everything_. But he simply wasn’t like _that_ anymore.

Because Daryl mattered, too.  
Because Daryl was here with him, right here, right now.  
And they both knew that he always would be with him because that’s the way it was now.

Connor let out a little sigh and shook his head, shooting the walkers a final look until he eventually entered the building as well, pulling the door shut behind him. 

* * *

 

If it was even possible, it was actually even darker inside the building.

Connor could barely make out his surroundings, only caught a glimpse of the rooms in the beam of the flashlight Daryl had found in here somewhere.

The hunter was further away from the door already, scanning the area as Connor quickly tried to catch up to him. After some adjusting to the incredible darkness Connor could eventually make out shapes of marble, former white tiles on the floor and walls of what looked like had once been a very expensive office complex or bank or whatever the hell this had been. There were even some columns dividing the large lobby, making it look like a former greek or roman temple of some sorts.

He knew it was a bit stupid but Connor gently whistled in approval and in an almost mocking manner, taking everything in. The whistle made Daryl turn around and look at him for a moment as he shone the beam of the flashlight right in Connor’s face. The Irishman blinked with an annoyed expression on his face and looked to the side, but wouldn’t say anything.

He couldn’t see it, but it made Daryl smirk a bit. Not just because he found it funny that he was annoying Connor with the light, but also because he was happy that his stupid Irish friend seemed to have dropped the subtle ‘you’re a burden around the walkers’ topic for now. Instead, they got back to their silent and very functional way of working together, as they made their way through the marble lobby and offices, up an down some stairs as they tried to stay off the streets, still in complete darkness.

Eventually they did find a place they could consider somewhat good enough to crash, hidden behind a simple glass door with the inscription “TEMPORARY HOUSING - SERVICE CENTER”. Daryl found it kind of ironic but fitting, no matter what, he was actually just glad that they had found _something_ other than offices with uncomfortable chairs, tables and rooms that all looked the same.

They entered the service center that was on the third floor of this entire complex and block – Connor first, then Daryl, only to secure the doors and windows as good as they could. Daryl caught a quick glance of the streets outside, saw the shadows of shuffling and moaning corpses. Back in the old days, women had come here to flee from abusive or drunk husbands and partners. And here they were, seeking shelter and cover from the walking dead.

Things hadn’t changed much then. They were still running from the monsters.

Daryl shook his head with a gentle snort and turned his head, only to be surprised to find the room empty. Connor was done placing a desk in front of the door they’d entered the facility through and had disappeared, probably off to explore the adjacent hallway and further rooms. The hunter frowned a little angrily and then quickly followed. Thankfully, it didn’t take long or even much searching to find Connor. He was standing close to the end of the hallway and observed a glass door to his left as he shone the flashlight at what was inside the room.

Daryl didn’t even need to see it to already know what it was. Of course there were more walkers in here. Of course they were banging on the door, drawn in by the sudden sound of footsteps in the hallway. Daryl used the time to quickly have another look inside the other rooms through the milky and dusty glass doors, gently tapping on them to make some noise, but there was nothing else, just the walkers Connor had discovered.

“How many?” Daryl asked on his way there, and Connor just kept shining his flashlight at the tapping, scratching and knocking undead.

“Just two” the Irishman muttered, then Daryl came to a halt right next to him.

It was no real wonder that Connor was suddenly a bit hesitant.

For a moment, Daryl caught himself just staring at them, too.

Small clumsy hands scratching and tapping at the glass, trying to get out, sounds that were accompanied by raspy breathing and groaning.

A child walker and her mother. Both still in here, died together, in temporary housing. They had probably been in here for an entire year. Just like he had thought minutes before, running from a different kind of monster. “I’m not stabbing a fuckin kid” Connor eventually said and got going.

At first, Daryl felt a ping of anger, the selfish and stubborn part of himself just seeing it as another form of blame from his best friend, another form of saying that he was a burden as the walkers were a threat to him, not to Connor, that without him, Connor wouldn’t have to waste a thought on getting rid of them anyway. But he soon came to his witts and just knew that this wasn’t about that at all, that Connor really just meant it the way he had said it. Truth be told, he wasn’t exactly keen about it either. Stabbing something that had once been a normal little girl. He just looked at her and her mother a little longer, wondering, thinking about Sophia for a moment, but then he realized that the alternative was even crueler.

Although they were dead people, although they had died someway or another, at the end of the day, they still _were_. They existed, they moved, they were in this world and would be in this world for a very long time, in this withering state, forever trapped in this room, this shelter, because they were now too stupid to even move a door by themselves. Although they were dead, they still didn’t know for sure how _aware_ they were. So in the end, with this former kid, it would be cruel to leave them in this state, this room, withering right here.

Not just that. Each killed undead meant a problem less, a bite and future dead person less. So it needed to happen no matter what.

* * *

 

Connor was busy somewhat preparing the room for the night when Daryl finally came into the room as well, after having done the deed of killing the last two inhabitants of this temporary shelter. Connor looked up when he heard his friend enter, and truth be told, now that he’d had a couple of minutes to himself in the quiet and dark, he was actually glad that Daryl was with him.

It was way too easy to get lost in his own thinking world otherwise. The wondering where and how Murphy was, the spinning of thoughts with countless ideas, plans and mad schemes to get him back and out of there, the borderline murderous and furious tendencies that came right back along with it. How he just wanted to kill everyone and everything that had anything to do with his brother’s so sudden and dastard abduction.

Or the other train of thoughts. The secret panic that without Murphy and Daryl, in a big city, he would be back to square one. Alone, lonely, on the brink of insanity.

Despite the walkers, despite the danger and responsibility, it really was good to have Daryl around to keep him here. Connor kept checking the cupboard and bunk and old luggage in the corner for anything useful while Daryl slowly entered the room, chewing on his lip, as he let his gaze wander and then fixed his eyes on the books on the table.

**_TREATING SURVIVORS OF CHILDHOOD ABUSE – PSYCHOTHERAPY FOR THE INTERRUPTED LIFE_ **

One of those read.

Daryl didn’t even know if he felt like laughing or punching someone. Of course stuff like this had to lie around here. He was lucky that he didn’t believe in god or a higher power or anything else that could make him believe that this was some sort of ‘sign’ now.

He didn’t need any of this.

He ended up just scoffing and then placed his crossbow on the table, on top of the book to blend it out. He then got rid of their backpack and had another look around the room Connor had chosen for them to settle in.

It looked like your basic hostel thing. A simple cupboard, a desk, a chair. A bunk bed.

Daryl smirked a tiny bit and shot Connor a look.

“I’ll take the top bunk” he said and threw the backpack on top of it, trying to tease and lighten the mood.

Much to his disapproval, Connor wouldn’t go with it. Instead, he had the same neutral look on his face as he just nodded.

“Aye. You should catch some sleep. I’ll take te first watch” he simply answered and then walked over to the window to have a look outside, to check where the walkers were, what was going on, and if he could see some light in the windows of the otherwise abandoned downtown area. Daryl pressed his lips together and then chewed on them, looking down and sorting his clothes. “Place is locked up pretty tight” he suggested, but Connor wouldn’t say anything, so Daryl tried again, a bit more direct this time.

“ We’re good then. No need for yah t’keep…”

“I said I’ll keep watch” Connor interrupted him, still looking out of the window.

Daryl scoffed and shook his head, turning around to get rid of his jacket, throw it away and then sit down on the bottom bunk.

“Suit yourself” he growled and then sat down, adjusting his weight to the front a bit as he rubbed his eyes and eventually stared at Connor by the window.

“Why don’t you just say what’s really on your mind, huh? Cos I know what this is ‘bout” he said after minutes of silence.

_Connor wanted him to go to sleep so he could fucking bail on him. So he could go out there in the dead of night, pull his selfish plan through and keep following that car, even if it meant walking amongst the undead population of Atlanta. Because he could. But only **without** him. _

Connor looked down after a while.

“’m just wondering…”

“What” Daryl said, sounding a bit annoyed, already mentally preparing himself for the upcoming shitstorm.

“You talked about starting over yesterday” the Irishman said instead and then looked at Daryl with a little frown.

“Yeah, so?”

“I’m fucking trying t’stay positive, okay. ‘m trying” Connor suddenly growled and then looked back outside the window. “But I’m wondering if that’s exactly what’s happening now. Fuckin everything. Startin over. Cos I’m in a huge fucking city with walking corpses everywhere and I lost my brother cos I wasn’t watching his ass for a sec. Right now this feels like fucking Boston all over again and it’s bullshit” Connor said angrily and even kicked the wall a bit.

Daryl let out a long, deep almost relieved sigh and rubbed his eyes again while he shook his head. Connor just glared out of the window and clenched his fists. He let out a sigh as well and then banged his forehead against the window, trying to stay calm. He wouldn’t say anything as he got himself back together, and Daryl eventually looked at him again.

“Just chill out, man. It ain’t the same, it’s just Atlanta…” the hunter muttered, actually a bit surprised that this wasn’t about the him not being immune and slowing Connor down thing at all. But then again, he wasn’t exactly surprised because he had known about this shit going through Connor’s mind right from the moment they had first seen the skyline of Atlanta with that look on Connor’s face.

“I am as chill as I can fucking be compared t’last year, alright? That’s not it” Connor said and gave Daryl an annoyed eyeroll as if he felt personally insulted that Daryl could even dare to _think_ that he was still the same freakout as last year, although he totally still was and they both knew it. “I know that we’re fuckin different now, tougher, better, all that shit. Murph’s a tough survivor. He’s prepared. We are. So yeah I’m aware that it’s impossible t’repeat itself. I’ll make fuckin sure we’ll get him back by tomorrow same time, just like I said, that’s not even really it. But…”

Connor growled and eventually walked over to Daryl to sit down next to him on the bed. They just sat next to each other for a while until the Irishman was a little less angry. Instead, he was just back to nervously moving his hand through his messy hair, back and forth, back and forth, over and over again. It was driving Daryl nuts.

“Back at the church I read some shit. That’s te real deal, actually” the Irishman eventually said, swallowing bitterly, before the hunter could comment on the stupid hair thing. Daryl just kept looking at him and eventually snorted with a smirk. “What a surprise” was all he could say. There it was again. The fucking church thing. Still the same bible thumping leprechaun. _Why did he even put up with him_ , he seriously wondered. But the smirk was genuine because in the end he knew exactly why he put up with it. He simply loved the fucker too much.

“Someone carved ‘you will burn fer this’ on the church wall outside. Saw it when we were checking it out when we found te priest” the Irishman went on and then just stared at Daryl, wondering. “Tha was right after I’d broken our family code. Right after I killed a fuckin woman.”

Daryl decided to just stay quiet. He could kind of understand what this was about, that some of Connor’s worries were legit, but for the most part it actually still just annoyed him. That whole high calling from god and religious punishment and righteousness and all the other bullshit. Good on Connor for feeling guilty about shady shit like going on murder sprees and killing women and killing people for sports and fun. But not to that kind of degree.

“I’m all about consequences and payment fer false actions. And I’m wondering if this right here is mine now. That’s on my mind, alright. I break te code, two days later Murph gets fuckin taken.”

“Shitty food we ate couple of days ago gave me gas ‘n diarrhea for a whole day. I bet that was your god giving me a big sign that fuckin you up the ass is wrong, too. Holy shit, man. It all makes sense now” Daryl said sarcastically.

Although he didn’t want to, Connor burst out laughing. He wanted to say something but couldn’t, the silent fit of laughter just held him in a tight grip, completely by surprise. Connor closed his eyes and eventually shielded them with one hand, still laughing to himself, which made Daryl smirk and chuckle as well, because he was pleased with how it had turned out. Eventually, he spoke again, after giving Connor a good minute.

“Just stop reading your god shit into everything that happens. ‘s all I’m sayin. I can’t hear it no more alright” Daryl then said honestly, fumbling with his hands. “Got enough brains ‘n guts to handle stuff without it now.”

Connor let out a little sigh and nodded, no longer laughing.

“I know….this whole Boston thing’s just still fucking me over, I guess. Lot more than I care ta admit.”

Daryl snorted and looked at his hands while he fumbled with his fingers, picked at the dirt under his nails.

“Ha yeah. You think the shit with Merle got any better? Fuck no. It’s just the way it is.”

Connor looked up a little to observe the room.

“Right. Must be pretty shitty fer you t’be back in Atlanta, too.”

“Well he ain’t cuffed to no roof here anymore, that’s for sure” Daryl said and looked up, only to shake his head with a sad little smirk.

“He was an asshole.”

They both chuckled a little and eventually fell silent, until Daryl remembered what he’d thought about before Connor had told him what was on his mind right now.

“Hey, when we were out by the door and you were talkin ‘bout getting a car t’get Rick ‘n the others…” he said and Connor looked at him curiously with an interested “Yeah?”

Daryl wouldn’t look at him and kept fumbling with his hands instead.

“You said that shit cos you considered me a liability ‘round the walkers, didn’tcha? I’m slowin you down, you can’t just plow through the dead ones and keep going cos they’re gonna attack me. So when you say that shit, it’s cos you wanna get rid of me, right” he openly admitted to his thoughts and Connor just looked at him for a while, then he let out a sigh and looked straight ahead.

“I’d be fuckin lying if I said I didn’t think ‘bout it fer a bit” Connor admitted as well, and Daryl looked at him.

“But we’re a fuckin team” the Irishman then said and nodded. “’ve been on me own long enough and handled shit on me own long enough ta know that it fuckin sucks. Ye don’t leave friends behind” he explained and then looked at Daryl as well. “Just makes ye a self-absorbed, lonely and dangerous piece-a shit. And I’d like ta believe that’s not who I wanna be” Connor added and then gave his friend a content and trusting smile.

Daryl battled it some and looked down, but eventually he still gave in to that faint smile. On the inside, he was actually _really_ freaking out over that statement, a lot more than the smile showed. He honestly didn’t know if he’d ever…no in fact, he’d _never_ heard any such nice thing in his entire life. That anyone wanted him around no matter what. Wanted him around because he was a _friend_. Because he mattered. Not because he was just useful most of the time.

Because this had always been the truth. People had always only wanted him around and be his friend as long as he was useful. If he was not, he’d really been dropped like a used rubber, just like Merle had always said. This time he was somewhat a liability and even he admitted to that himself, in this situation right here. But Connor was still willing to risk an entire night for him, to keep him around.

“Besides, _man”_ Connor said and looked at Daryl in an exaggerated manner. Daryl looked at him curiously to know what this was about. “You got a fuckin crossbow” Connor exclaimed and pointed at the thing. “I mean are ye fuckin kidding me” the Irishman went on and looked at him as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “Gotta keep that around!”

Daryl snorted and shoved his friend a little.

“Nah nevermind, you already are a piece ‘a shit” he said and Connor chuckled a bit.

Daryl chuckled a little, too, and then lay on down on his back, staring at the top bunk with a sigh. Connor watched him for a moment, placing a hand on Daryl’s knee a bit harshly only to keep it there for a bit. He watched with a little content smile while Daryl simply stared at the top bunk and moved the leg Connor had placed a hand on left and right, left and right, comfortably wriggling a bit until Connor decided to let go with a final pet. He then got up to get back to the window.

“All right, ‘m gonna try ta survey the area bit more now from up here. Try ta make sense of te city, see if I catch some lights out there” he said and got back up. “We should try ta find a gift shop or tourist thing t’morrow, see if we can find a map with hospitals ‘n research facilities in the area following that road they took.”

“Hmhm” Daryl muttered and shifted so he could lie on the bed properly. He folded his arms over his chest and turned on his side so he could keep an eye on Connor, just in case. The Irishman was all too busy and focused again, trying to see anything in the dead of night although it was pretty useless. Daryl shook his head a little, still wondering how the fuck Connor was so good at the whole mood switching and turning off his worries from one second to the next thing. Despite how fucked up he truly was, _still_ was, the guy could still function, plan, keep his mind straight.

God he was a mess.

The hunter yawned and decided to let it go, just closing his eyes to try and catch some sleep.

* * *

It was no real surprise that the nightmare was back, considering that things _were_ pretty tough for Connor no matter how hard he tried to handle it differently this time. Because no matter what, they _were_ back in a huge city surrounded by the undead and the reminders of the outbreak and chaos last year, because Murphy _was_ gone again, no matter how shortly, although he wasn’t dying or bitten or whatever else had happened that day in Boston.

Daryl flinched a little at the sudden scream next to him, shook himself awake and turned on his back almost immediately so he could look at his friend right next to him. Up until now, he hadn’t even really known that Connor was in the bottom bunk with him, because the guy had gone to sleep in the top one at some point, but come to think of it, that really wasn’t a surprise either, and it explained a lot why sleeping here had been so uncomfortable and awkward until now. There was only so much space, so of course Connor’s gripping nightmare had awoken the both of them.

The Irishman was breathing heavily next to him and swallowed hard once, only to take a couple of steady deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. This was actually the good part, Connor was really good at that now compared to last year, now it was just like any other normal reaction to nightmares they _all_ had. Minus the nervous breakdown, minus the crippling depression that had always followed. Now it had just happened, just scared the shit out of him for a moment, but now that he was awake, he was at least somewhat back in control. But even with that, Daryl still felt a bit uneasy, actually pitied his friend.

He turned his head further to the side so he could properly look at Connor, but instead of looking right back at him, Connor turned his head even further to the other side so he could look out the window, check if the sun was rising (it was not), if he was in fact in Atlanta and not Boston, if everything was normal.

Daryl found himself staring at the back of Connor’s head for a very long while, the messy brownish-blonde hair there, the craned neck, until he decided to just give it a try. He knew it was stupid and maybe even inconsiderate, but he didn’t have a better idea how to calm his friend down, soothe him, get him to catch at least some hours of sleep before shit went down tomorrow without a doubt.

So he leaned forward a bit after a moment, shifted on his side and then moved his head clumsily and tiredly so he could kiss Connor’s neck, the pronounced tendon and muscle there. The Irishman let out a sigh and moved away a little at first, but eventually grabbed hold of Daryl’s muscular and dirty lower arm on his chest to dig his fingers into the skin there, holding on, while the hunter intensified the assault with his lips, kissing him once, then twice on his neck, then letting the kiss linger, becoming a bit more heated.

It was true that Connor honestly didn’t want to anything like that right now, that it made him a bit angry just _thinking_ about it while his brother was being abducted, held captive here in this goddamn city against his will, probably with needles and all that shit. But he also knew that it was out of his hands right now, that running around in the dark and probably getting even more lost in a city he didn’t know would be even more stupid and counterproductive. It honestly just was one big fucking mess.

He turned his head and glared at Daryl, making him stop the attempt. He certainly looked a bit mad in the faint light of the night, like he considered putting up a fight and calling him out on this bullshit and how primitive the whole thing was right now. Daryl was prepared for that fight and argument, maybe even wanted it to happen just so the two of them could blow off some steam as always, but instead, Connor moved and grabbed the hunter by his throat so he could shove him back a bit, so he could return the favor, kiss him back on his mouth and _take_ instead.

He came to the conclusion that Daryl’s subtle suggestion was right, that instead of talking or any of the other whiny feelings bullshit they’d had going far too much today, he should let go like _this_ instead. No matter how fucked up and wrong it was right now.

He kissed back quite passionately, felt his entire body buzz with a weird mixture of fear, anger and need. Mostly because the nightmare still sat deep in his bones, but also because the sheer act of just lying around trying to sleep and doing absolutely _nothing_ right now was driving him crazy, because he just needed to do _something_ , now that he couldn’t simply walk out that door and leave Daryl behind.

The hunter heatedly worked on Connor’s jeans and belt to get them to open while the Irishman still proceeded to kiss him, almost suffocating and certainly bruising with the urgency as he pressed him heavily into the bed. They both became so frantic for a moment that nothing seemed to work, that they constantly were in each other’s way with their hands as they tried to get rid of pants, underwear, anything in the way. Until it did slow down with the first successful twist of a hand wrapped tightly around Daryl’s already pronounced hard on.

In contrast to that Connor actually had no erection at all right now and that certainly worried the both of them a bit, but they didn’t get to ponder on it too much because the kissing and biting was still distracting enough. For a short moment the Irishman actually thought about completely forgetting about himself and his priorities, actually considered going down on Daryl in the heat of the moment, but then he came to realize that this really wasn’t about the hunter at all, that his friend thought the same because he was pretty eager to flip them around.

While Connor was still clumsily trying to jerk Daryl off the hunter had other ideas and somewhat leaned to the side with a heated exhale, tried to reach for his backpack by the side of the bed so he could find the lube this time. After the thing yesterday he certainly didn’t want to go without it ever again, so it had been the first thing to find its way back into the stash he _always_ carried around with him now, be it on scouting missions, hunting trips, or like in this case, spontaneous rescue missions.

He was half sitting, half lying on the bed as he shakily searched through his stuff, getting goosebumps and momentarily dropping the backpack, with his toes digging into the old fabric of the sheets when Connor just wouldn’t stop working on him, trying to press him further into the bed with that frenzy of his. Daryl let out a moan but then shoved Connor away a bit so he could finally find the lube and get going. He then leaned back and threw the bottle at his friend so he could use it, get going and be in charge although it still made Daryl nervous and anxious a bit, but he still forced himself to lie still and wait patiently for Connor to go ahead. He knew that his friend certainly needed to be on top tonight, needed to be in control so he could really let go of the stupid Murphy issue for _just a fucking moment_ , but much to his surprise, Connor actually threw the bottle right back at him.

“No. You” the Irishman just said and finally moved, almost shoving Daryl out of the bed in his frenzy as he lay down beside him instead.

“What?” Daryl asked, a bit confused, staring at the bottle on his chest for a moment only to fix his eyes on his own erection instead that was starting to drive him nuts already. ( _He seriously wondered what the fuck was up with him these days. Years without sex or a partner and he’d been fine, and now it felt like he sometimes wanted to fuck his best friend every day. Yep, something was definitely wrong with him. What was even worse was the fact that he didn’t care. Shit._ )

“I fuckin can’t right now in case ye didn’t notice, Jesus” Connor said angrily as he tried to find a comfortable position, all the while battling his thoughts that told him more and more that this was a stupid idea, that now was a _terrible_ time given the circumstances.

Daryl sensed that train of thought and pretty much thought the same, at least a part of him, so he quickly decided to act on the request, opening up the bottle to prepare himself, only to let out a frustrated but also slightly pleasured hiss at the slippery cold grip.

Connor caught himself watching and even licked his lips a little, only to move so he could rest his head on his arm while he waited. He even gave himself a squeeze with his other hand but found it pretty useless (much to his discomfort, it was like even his body told him this was a bad idea right now, still no hard on, but fuck it), so he stopped and waited for Daryl instead.

After a moment of seriously wondering if Daryl was just going to jerk off the hunter finally moved and shifted, clumsily getting on top of Connor as he looked down at him. The Irishman already considered slapping him should he ask if he was really sure now, but he was pleasantly surprised when Daryl wouldn’t but instead, simply lay down on top of him, kissing him while he adjusted their positions and started to prep a bit.

Although it was still uncomfortable and even a bit humiliating Connor still really appreciated and even liked the fact how quickly Daryl and even he had adjusted to the whole thing. The discomfort was there and probably always would be, but the awkwardness was vanishing more and more, getting replaced with trust and most of all proper love instead. So instead of complaining or flinching or moving too much Connor simply endured and even held Daryl in an iron hug, pulling him closer as he breathed out harshly and heatedly into his neck.

He pulled and clung even more when everything seemed to crash over him all over again, the fact that Murphy was gone, the nightmare, the uncertainty, the sheer level of frustration because less than 12 hours ago everything had been so fucking fine with the Murphy considering getting married and all the shit, finding the group again, only to crash and burn because of one stupid fucking car.. He pulled and clung and even scratched the back of Daryl’s neck in sheer frustration, but before the wrath and whole thinking could fully consume him his friend put a harsh end to it by simply starting to thrust and move on top of him, drawing a ragged sound from Connor.

If it was possible, Connor simply held on even more and properly shoved his face into Daryl’s shoulder, fisting the back of his shirt with both his hands to concentrate the anger there, breath hitching with each thrust. It was fucked up and he didn’t know why, but he suddenly found himself at the brink of wanting to fucking kill someone over how his day had been screwed up, his optimism, his ‘recovery’.

A gentle and uncomfortable whine from Daryl snapped him out of it and Connor finally forced himself to concentrate on the fact that they were actually having sex right now, that this was supposed to be a good thing, so he breathed out and loosened the grip a little. He moved and then grabbed Daryl by his black mop of hair, gentler, so he could pull his head up a bit and lock them in a passionate kiss instead. And it actually really felt good, seemed to do the trick. He participated more, moved more and supported Daryl’s thrusting, speeding them up a bit until he finally felt like letting out a pleasured moan as well, until it really became the proper and most of all _good_ thing that it should be.

Come to think of it, no matter how this couldn’t fit any less right now, it really was the support he needed right now. He was thankful that he hadn’t turned this into a solo mission, that they were doing this together instead of him turning into a sleep deprived, murderous crazed brainless idiot over his brother’s kidnapping. He was thankful for it mainly not even for the fact that it came with the sex, the relationship, the petting of his ego. No, he was thankful mainly for the fact that _Daryl_ was with him, that they were a match made in hell, that they were a team, that they were _together¸_ going through this _together_ because that’s the way it should be.

He let Daryl do the work for a while, let him thrust and move and change speed and force until he found his rhythm, found the right angle that got them both off, until everything became a blurr of harsh movement, sweat and entanglement and kisses and almost disgustingly intimate near. It really felt great simply because Daryl seemed to get better as well, slowly, lasting longer, becoming more considerate. So considerate that once he was finished and Connor was finally hard as well, he even stopped the simple handjob deal to let him finish by topping as well.

It was quickly becoming a truly mutual thing, despite their past and present or maybe exactly _because_ of those things, and maybe that was reason enough for the both of them to believe that even with shit hitting the fan, that maybe things could still get better, or at least stay the way they were now.

* * *

 

He woke up and he felt…..

Like _shit._

What a surprise.

Of course, the euphoria wouldn’t last forever. At the end of the day, sex was a tricky, simple and placebo like business. Euphoria. Endorphins. They could only last for so long. Of course the world wouldn’t magically get any better and lily-white perfect just because he’d stuck his dick somewhere last night.

But even with all that, he still had to admit that he wouldn’t have done it any differently, that it had brought him a little slice of peace at least. Connor woke up with a yawn and stared at the bottom of the top bunk, blinking tiredly as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight that was filling the room. He felt a pleasant prickling sensation in his limbs, felt almost relaxed in fact, but that was pretty much the only good thing about everything.

Murphy was still gone. Time was still running out.

He still didn’t have a clue what they were doing with his brother right now, could be doing today now that they had sunlight, too.

 _Well fuck it, at least he had Daryl_.

They were going to get shit done today. No matter what. Not just because they had to, not just because he owed Murphy, but mainly because that’s who he wanted to be now, wanted to be again. The guy to get shit done instead of just constantly talking and thinking about it, constantly being a fucking sissy about it. He yawned again and moved a little, turned his head to side until he caught a glimpse of Daryl who was still lying next to him. The hunter lay on his back, caught up in a book that he was reading.

**_TREATING SURVIVORS OF CHILDHOOD ABUSE – PSYCHOTHERAPY FOR THE INTERRUPTED LIFE_ **

it read on the back. Connor grinned a little, for many reasons. For one, and fuck yeah he couldn’t help it, it was just the way he was, he found it a bit funny. Daryl, reading a book like this that countless abused girlfriends and wives had read in here before. He knew it was mean but he couldn’t help the thought. And it didn’t matter anyway because the main reason why he was grinning was a completely different one. He was grinning because he was mainly proud of his friend, proud and surprised that Daryl was reading this in the first place. It was a major step for him after all.

Even after months of being together, being more than just friends, he still hadn’t forgotten about the old Daryl he’d met a year ago. Angry, abusive, violent and dangerous redneck Daryl. This guy never would’ve even _looked_ in the same direction the book was lying. He probably would’ve thrown a sissy fit over it, thrown it into a bush or some other shit, snarling about how he didn’t need nobody and didn’t need no help.

But this new Daryl was dealing with the shit of his past and had more balls than old Daryl ever had, and because of that, Connor was grinning. He cleared his throat to give his friend a heads up and Daryl did exactly what the Irishman had expected him to. He closed the book and somewhat tried to hide the cover and title, casually acting like nothing had happened. He then let it slide to the side, off the bed, probably into his backpack while he turned his head to look at Connor.

“Bout time yah wake up” he greeted his friend and Connor just kept smirking, blinking tiredly.

“Hm” he hummed lazily and actually leaned forward to kiss Daryl, who kissed back at first, slowly moving a hand up to entangle his fingers in Connor’s messy hair. But before it even got to that Connor ended everything with a grin and shoved tongue inside, invading Daryl’s mouth. The hunter pulled a face and moved away with a disgusted growl.

“Stop” he complained and angrily wiped his mouth. “You stink rotten, man” he went on and then got up with a grunt while Connor chuckled and fell on his back for a moment, grinning at the top bunk bed.

“’f course I do. No toothbrush does that ta you. But even with that, at least I don’ smell like I ate a three week old rotten skunk, redneck Joe” Connor answered, sounding pleased with himself.

Daryl put his jacket back on because he was feeling cold now that he was no longer under the protective covers of the blanket or heated up from Connor’s body next to him.

“Fuck you” he just said lazily but had a content small smirk on his face as well. _And yep, it certainly was a just got laid smile, fuck you very much._

“Hey listen, found this when I checked the other rooms earlier while I took care of the girl and the mom” Daryl then said and showed Connor the Atlanta travel guide with map he had found. Connor was still busy putting his jeans back on but held his hand out for the book so he could take a look at it. He studied the map and the look on his face changed back to the neutral concentrated ‘planning’ mode almost instantly.

“Hmhm, dat’s perfect, actually” he muttered and then handed it back after a moment so he could zip himself up and close his belt. Daryl took it back and looked at the map once more as well.

“That car was headed downtown. I say we get up on one of the tall ones first, get ourselves a view, see what we see.”

“Aye. Good idea” Connor agreed and got his things ready. After a moment of them doing that, the Irishman eventually added: “Does that guide of yers rec any good places ta hit up fer breakfast?”

Daryl snorted and threw his crossbow over his shoulder.

“Bet there’s some class A dumpsters ‘round here.”

Connor scoffed as well and gave his friend a little eye roll. But they didn’t have much time to keep joking around or pretend like everything was alright. The sun was rising, rising higher and higher on the horizon. They both knew they needed to get going, needed to move if they wanted to find Murphy in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man I could get used to writing domestic Connaryl. They're becoming wayyy sweeter than I ever wanted them to be! Shame on these two, seriously, tricking me into writing them like that.


	9. Happening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's chapter two for today. It's a big one. We're getting closer to the finale now.

Atlanta looked a bit better during the day, but there were still a lot of walkers around, maybe even too many for their liking. The downtown area certainly didn’t look any different than last time Daryl had been here. He recognized the tank where Rick had lost his hat and guns back in the day, all the blockades and signs of mass panic. They had agreed on a high rise they wanted to use to properly survey the area later, scout possible hospitals from up high. It would be a bit easier to see anything from up there these days, considering how much of central Atlanta had been destroyed with bombs and fire, so both Connor and Daryl were actually quite hopeful that they would be able to see something as soon as they got up there.

They jogged their way through small alleys and a major street once in a while, dodging debris and flying old newspapers and other leaflets as they tried to reach their destination. They took turns having the lead through the city, not saying a word throughout the whole thing.

By the time they finally reached the car park and skybridge it was impossible to talk anyway, because the streets were packed with the undead. Connor felt bad about it yet again because it certainly was dangerous for Daryl now, no matter how tough he really was. Before getting bit he and Murphy had been tough as well, but the walkers had never cared. If they got the chance to bite or eat someone, they always would. Muscle, crossbow, or hunting skills wouldn’t matter either.

But it wasn’t like that seemed to matter to Daryl. In fact, he kept going just like any other time, reminding Connor how resourceful his friend really was after all. When Daryl noticed that a herd of walkers was blocking the entrance to the car park he simply grabbed some of the old rotten papers on the ground and lit them on fire with Connor’s lighter, waiting for the flames to grow until he threw the burning paper at a nearby car wreck and piles of trash.

It certainly did the trick because they were rapidly catching fire as well in the hot and dry sun, catching the herd’s attention just as intended. Connor gave an approving nod, if even just to himself, and then quickly followed Daryl when he started running to get inside the car park. The Irishman naturally took over as soon as they were inside, as close combat with walkers in confined areas was his territory with the immunity.

Connor had his knife drawn and ready to stab, deadly eyes fixed on the parked cars as they carefully made their way up to the second level, where the signs said the skybridge was, the one that was going to get them inside the skyscraper they had picked for their survey.

Despite the tension and danger of this city scenario with all the walkers and everything else, Connor couldn’t help but find part of it quite fun. If he just ignored the whole Murphy and past in Boston deal for a moment it actually felt good to be back in a truly urban area. It was a distorted but still present reminder of their former society and most of all _his_ former life, a life that had consisted of big city ruckus and lots of people, noise, traffic jams, drinks after work, secretly shaking their heads over all these lifeless assholes in expensive suits out on the streets.

The lack of trees and farmlands and country life in exchange for the big city, dead or not, sure felt like a nice change.

Daryl was in _his_ territory now. Not the other way round.

The skybridge that had once offered pedestrians a nice view of the avenue and surrounding downtown area had been turned into the same thing everything else had sooner or later. A dumping ground for trash, filth, rot, abandonment. He couldn’t really tell how long ago but at some point, the skybridge had been turned into a camp. They could see tents and sleeping bags, with the windows and beams between them having been turned into a temporary place to hang clothing and paper towels and cooking pots for food that was now rotting away. Piles of rotten food and toilet paper had been carefully stockpiled in a corner, left forgotten the moment all the occupants had died. 

Because that’s what had happened here, just like it always did. The sleeping bags, the tents, they were all moving because the people had all died and turned here in this camp, probably within a short time. Daryl could see the holes in the sides of the sleeping bags that all had pools of dried blood on them, saw the holes in the tents where bullets had travelled right through. Every single member of this former camp had been shot up right here, left to turn, probably for the sheer sake of killing.

Both friends observed the scene for a moment, then Daryl just shook his head.

“Some days I don’t know what the hell to think” he growled and knelt down to stab a few of the walkers in the sleeping bags. Connor did the same with a harsh look on his face.

“People have always been scumbags and killers” he answered. Scenes like this one right here were a good reminder how it was a good thing that he and Murphy were still around. The world needed to be ridden of scumbag killers just like that, now, more than ever.

He did the duty of stabbing the walkers in the sleeping bags and got up on his feet, looking at Daryl who was observing the moving tents. They could hear the dry snarling and growling from the undead trapped inside, saw how they clumsily tried to get out and attack but to no avail. The tents were all zipped up tight, leaving the walkers trapped to stumble around and fall over inside.

The hunter shook his head with a snort and simply walked past them. Connor kind of wanted to stab them through the fabric but then had to agree with his friend there. It was a waste of time, they needed to get moving, and it wasn’t like these ones in there were any threat to them or anyone else right now. So just like Daryl he walked past the tents to get to the other side of the bridge instead, to get to the door there that was locked up with a chain.

Daryl managed to squeeze through and so did Connor, although it certainly was a bit hard and clumsy. Daryl watched him with a tiny smirk, not bothering to help his friend on purpose, simply because he enjoyed watching him struggle.

“Good thing we skipped breakfast, huh. Bout time you lose some weight” he simply said, which made Connor curse at him under his breath, but then the Irishman chuckled once as well. They both knew that Daryl had been refering to the fact that Connor had gained some muscles and strength, certainly not weight in any other sense.

Eventually Daryl did give his friend a hand to help him back up, so they could make their way up the stairs without wasting too much time.

* * *

 

It was kind of grotesque to enter this place because it looked so out of this world now, so neat and tidy and clean - if you didn’t count all the dust on the furniture. The lawyer’s office and accompanying penthouse were decorated with countless paintings and pieces of art practically everywhere, on expensive wooden tables with marble tiles next to expensive leather seats.

As they entered the office to make their way over to the windows Connor found himself just lazily looking at the books for a moment, snooping around some paper work. He didn’t know why, but for some weird reason and just for a moment, he tried to imagine Smecker in a silly suit, sitting right there in the chair by the desk with that creepy grin of his. Whatever it was, the weirdness of the art and this whole place just reminded him of his late friend and Connor couldn’t help but smirk as he let out a gentle chuckle. Yeah. Smecker would've fit in here just fine.

“I bet this cost some rich prick a looooot of money” Daryl said somewhere and made Connor look up.

The hunter was standing in front of one of the weird modern ‘art’ pieces on the wall, just observing it.

“Looks like a dog sat in paint, wiped his ass all over the place” Daryl went on and mimicked the stroke of the paint brush on the canvas with his hand to get his point across. It just made Connor grin even more, not just because of the remark, but also because Daryl just made everything even more grotesque. Because here he was, dirty as hell just like always, with his dirty leather west, the crossbow, the dirty jeans with the holes in them, the longish almost greasy hair, only thing missing was a dead squirrel somewhere.

“Look atcha, Daryl Dixon, redneck art critic now?”

Daryl snorted and flopped down on the expensive leather couch for a moment just to test it out. Dirty boots on the leather certainly included on purpose.

“Yeah, sure” he muttered and moved and shifted until he was comfortable.

“You ever been to a place like this before?” he eventually asked and smirked a bit. “Big city guy?”

Connor scoffed at him and observed the rest of the room.

“Sure. Ta shoot shit up. Prudential tower. Boston. Looked pretty similar.”

Daryl snorted.

“So what, you ain’t been livin in a place like that?” he teased and Connor gave him a grin.

“Why? Ye wanna pretend? Ye wanna play house with me? Go on, make me a sandwich in te kitchen then, Darylena. Ha” the Irishman teased and Daryl threw one of the probably outrageously expensive couch cushions at his friend with a chuckled “Fuck you.”

But maybe he tried to picture it for a silly moment. Living in a place like this with Connor in a happy hippo wonderland after the cure had been found. The whole crazy deal, probably screwing around on this couch, too. _Ha. Yeah. As if._

Daryl smirked a little to himself and then shook his head, swinging his legs to the side so he could get back up on his feet. He then walked over to the window to have a look outside, check the view. Connor did the same and let out a little sigh, because he knew that the joking and momentarily forgetting was over now, that it had to get back to the point now. The point being that Murphy was gone and that he needed to find him as soon as he possibly could.

The damage from the bombing and fire was very clear from their point of view now, considering that they were right in the center of the city, several stories above. The central avenue had been completely bombed to rubble, any sort of wreckage that had survived the bombing had burned to the ground by the fire that had followed. All the trees and bushes were burned as well and stood there like large pointy sticks of charcoal. The two friends just let the sight of that part of Atlanta sink in, silent for a while, until it was Daryl who spoke up first with a sad sigh.

“Shelters all got overrun, just like everywhere” the hunter explained as they both kept looking at the destroyed avenue below. “Merle ‘n I, we were back outside by the time it started. Choppers. Jets. Came from all over, napalmed the shit outta the city. Didn’t matter if there were any people left ‘round the center. They just tried t’get rid of all of ‘em. The noise, the fire…drew the rest of the walkers from the outskirts and suburbs right back here, crowded the center all over again. City belonged to the dead the moment shit hit the fan in the first place.”

“Aye. Already figured. Shit happened everywhere, didn’t it” Connor answered quietly and then let out a sigh.

“I mean with Boston ‘t was just a few air strikes, but fires, they were everywhere, too. I wasn’t there anymore by te time it really went ta shit, but Murph told me ‘t was pretty much the same” he explained and shook his head. “Being out there on the farm, the prison, Woodbury, te church, ye kinda forget about the magnitude of it, don’t ye. Everything’s fucking dead.”

Daryl shifted and turned around so he could lean back against the wall and fold his arms.

“Yeah well out there, sure feels less freakin dead. Gotta start t’get better somewhere.”

Connor snorted and looked to the side a bit, trying to catch glimpse of any hospitals.

“What, you’d rather go back t’big city life? Eating canned shit ‘n junk food with all the fuckin noise everywhere?” Daryl asked, having picked up on Connor’s skepticism.

“Ye tend ta forget that I grew up country, too, y’know?” Connor countered instead and looked at Daryl, but he didn’t seem annoyed or angry, it was just a neutral reminder. Eventually he looked back outside. “Nah. I’m just seriously wondering what te fuck these Augusta people see when they look outside. I mean they’ve travelled te country and they’re here now and…It’s gonna take a loooot of shit t’jump start this mess out there again. I’m not sayin I don’t believe we can get it going again. I’m just wondering how the fuck _this_ out there’s supposed ta be worth more than Murph’s life, man.”

“The guy had a son. Maybe that’s reason enough for him. Giving his kid a future” Daryl said with a little shrug, remembering the professor from Augusta, the guy he’d talked to about the cure, about Connor and Murphy, about the immunity and everything else. Sure enough, at first, that professor guy had seemed okay enough. Not your typical fucked up bad guy like the Governor or the people who had attacked Woodbury, certainly not like those cannibals from Terminus.

But still. The whole deal, with the immunity, with the cure, with the future, that was way beyond him, gave him a headache even. Even he didn’t have a clue what he wanted or thought, if he _really_ pondered on everything. _Did he really want that cure? Would Murphy or Connor dying for this be worth it? Would the cure in fact be worth shit now? Really? If they looked outside, remembered the dead – alive ratio, the fact that the cure itself was a weapon, a tool of power?_

He remembered Jenner’s talk back at the CDC, how utterly clueless that lot had been, how complicated that disease, this _“Wildfire”_ , had sounded. He didn’t know if it could even really happen. He honestly had no fucking idea about anything. Just like Connor, he was sure of that. He was also sure of another thing. The only thing that truly mattered about the whole immunity business, mattered to him, was the fact that it had saved Connor after those bites, that it had kept him from dying.

“Hold the fuck up” Connor suddenly said, leaning in to be closer to the window, sanpping Daryl out of it. The Irishman shielded his eyes with one hand and squinted them so he could see better. He was obviously looking at something in the distance, in the city, so Daryl quickly turned around so he could look back outside as well.

“D’ye see it? Look over there, by tha bridge” Connor said and pointed at something.

“What? Where? Which one?” Daryl asked, frowning. Connor kept pointing at something.

“Right fuckin there man!”

Daryl concentrated a little more, squinting his eyes just the way Connor had done it seconds before. Then, finally, he could see it as well. There was a crashed van on top of a bridge in the distance, half dangling in the air as it had obviously broken right through the barrier on the side. They could clearly see the back of the truck half in the air, how the sun got reflected on the tinted rear window.

A rear window that clearly had a white cross taped on it.

“Shit.”

“Dat’s definitely one of them” Connor said and then quickly reached for their stuff to find the book with the map, see how the hell they could get to that bridge, and if there were any hospitals or research facilities in the area.

“Well there’s a bunch of dead ones, but I don’t see nobody there, looks like it crashed a while ago..”

“It’s gotta be a fuckin lead. We get there, maybe we can find something in there ta give us a clue where they took ‘im.”

Daryl observed the crashed van and its surroundings a little longer, only to nod in approval.

“Yeah, we could definitely save some time. Don’t need to check every single hospital or research place then, and there sure as hell ain’t no more reason for us t’stay up here, watch a dead city. Can’t stand the place” Daryl said and got their stuff ready, too, huffing a little when Connor suddenly hit his back once.

“Nice fuckin idea ta get up here. _Nice_ one I tell ye. Now let’s hurry” Connor said and was already on his way out, obviously way too excited to have found at least _something_ that could get him closer to his brother. Daryl shot a final short look at the van in the distance, praying to Connor’s stupid god that they would really find something there just so he didn’t have to see his friend get disappointed, frustrated and slightly panicked all over again, should the van be a dead end.

* * *

 

They were forced to make their way back on the same route they had used to get up to the penthouse, simply because all the other exits had been either damaged by the bombs or blocked by former survivors at some point in the past. Daryl hated the fact that he had to squeeze to the set of chained up doors that led to the skybridge yet _again_ , not just because it was a weak spot and left them temporarily defenseless as they tried to get through, but also because he was almost instantly getting hit in the face by that awful stench of abandonment, rotten food and decaying bodies once again, the moment he opened one of the doors as ‘wide’ as he could.

“Hurry up, wouldcha?!” he somewhat shouted back at Connor in the meantime, as he squeezed through the gap, because his friend was still somewhere by the stairs, yapping about how his fucking leg hurt from walking up and down so many stairs without any elevator working. Connor rarely had to take any stairs these days considering that they had spent most their time outdoors or by the farmlands, but now that they were back within the city, with large multi-story buildings, the Irishman’s old injury was certainly making itself known again.

In fact, because of the whole country and outdoor business, they had sometimes forgotten all about the fact that a large piece of glass had once been stuck in Connor’s thigh after the car crash back at Hershel’s farm, how it had fucked up his muscle with it. Walking and some running certainly was fine, a year had passed after all, but stairs were another thing entirely.

So this was the other reason why Daryl didn’t like the fact that they had to take the same route.

That, and the sudden clicking of a gun somewhere, very close to his head.

“Don’t even think about taking that thing back” someone greeted him, just when Daryl had been about to grab his crossbow from the ground where he had placed it to get through the gap between the doors faster. The hunter slowly looked up and glared at whoever was obviously threatening him with a gun and now taking his crossbow by placing his foot on it to drag it over to himself.

Daryl made eye contact with a young African American man who had an automatic rifle pointed at him. It was almost a bit funny to see the kid like that. He was a lot younger than Daryl, a lot skinnier than him, too. And although he held the rifle the right way, seemed to know his way around the gun, it still looked like he wasn’t exactly your typical super buff or hardcore fighter. The gun and the fact that he had taken the crossbow made him look dangerous enough nevertheless, so Daryl decided to not say or do anything. Because after all, at least he still had an ace up his sleeve, Connor, who still hadn’t…

“Hey, why the fuck don’t you slow down or at least wait for me, huh? I told ye this bitch of a…” Connor decided to burst his bubble right then and there, sticking his head through the gap between the chained up doors as he then attempted to squeeze the rest of his body through. “DON’T” Daryl snapped and tried to slam the door shut but to no avail, Connor had already and almost entirely slipped through and was half kneeling on their side of the skybridge.

“NO TRICKS! Get up! Hands up. Both of you!” the young man ordered the moment Connor had instinctively reached for his gun. Connor stilled and eventually gave Daryl an angry ‘ _What the fuck?_ ' look, only to slowly get up as he'd been told. Daryl did the same with a disgruntled look on his face, but in contrast to his friend he wouldn't put his hands in the air, he just glared at the young man and his crossbow on the ground. The man stared right back at him in what seemed like surprise.

“Alright, just...just relax fella, alright? We're just passing through, we're not looking fer trouble. Let’s just be civil about this“ Connor said, switching to his charming, trustworthy and calming persona on an instant.

The stranger, however, only had eyes for Daryl though.

“How’d you get out? That’s not..” he said, but before either of the friends could answer the young man already kept talking. “Look, nobody needs to get hurt. I just need weapons. And I need you to get as far away from me as you can. They’re gonna be looking for you, if they find me because of…”

“Woah, hold te fuck up, ye know about Murph? The guy who looks like him?” Connor immediately asked and pointed at Daryl as he became almost frantic on an instant. “He’s not the one you think he is, but we’re looking fer the guy yer talking about, do ye know where he is? Jesus fuckin Christ, he’s m’twin brother, they took him last night and now we’re…” he said, coming closer to the man, who backed off a bit and fired his gun, letting the bullet travel right past Connor’s head as a warning.

“Back up!” he said and Daryl lost it, too.

“Hey, you got some sack on you, you piece of shit!” he snarled in regards to the warning shot but Connor simply placed a hand on his chest to push him back gently. The Irishman then dropped one of his handguns and his knife on the floor, kicked them in the young man’s direction and then held both his hands in the air in a soothing gesture, to let the stranger know that he didn’t mean him any harm.

“Look. We don’t wanna hurtche. We just wanna find my brother. Y’see these tattoos?” Connor said and pointed at the tattoo on his neck, the one on his arm and finger. “He’s got te same, if ye were really there, ye saw ‘em on him, too. He’s with us. And he doesn’ wanna be there. And judging by yer being out here, ye don’t wanna be there, either. Maybe we can help each other out. Just tell us where ye saw him. Ye need guns, why not get the extra man power along with ‘em, aye?”

The young man had taken their weapons in the meantime and kept backing off, obviously either not buying it or not being interested in Connor’s talk. He eventually shook his head and approached the shaking tent to his left that was still filled with walkers.

“Sorry about this. I just made it out of there. I don’t wanna be involved in any of this” he said and then grabbed his knife.

Daryl tried to approach him to stop him, but Connor held him back once more.

“Sorry” the young man said once again and then started cutting up the tents to set the undead free.

He started running when the first bunch of walkers emerged from the tents, stumbled out of them with dry growling and moaning sounds, attracted to Daryl on an instant. The moment the kid had turned his back on them Connor drew his other gun, tried to shoot him in the leg but missed when a walker stumbled into his line of fire.

“Shit! HEY! WAIT THE FUCK UP! AT LEAST TELL US WHERE HE IS!” Connor yelled and shot two walkers.

He then quickly turned his head once to shoot his friend a look.

“You good?”

“Yeah, just fucking go after him!” Daryl shouted right back and stabbed another walker who stumbled in his direction. Connor nodded and then made his way past the tents, shot another two walkers on his way as he quickly made sure that Daryl could handle the situation, and when it looked like there was only one walker left from the tents he knew he was good to go. Connor gave in to a full sprint down the skybridge and then disappeared around the corner, still yelling for the young man to wait up.

Daryl made sure that there were no more walkers and then quickly checked the tent for any weapons, anything they could use now that their weapons had been taken. He let out a frustrated growl when he found the first tent empty and useless. He quickly got out of it so he could make his way over to the other one. He’d only just reached it when he suddenly heard a noise of what sounded like yet another string of gunfire, loud banging, and a loud and angry scream from Connor somewhere in the parking garage. Daryl looked up in surprise and a little bit of shock, his heart pounding faster on an instant.

_What if that kid had managed to shoot him during the pursuit? Shit, he shouldn’t have wasted that much time looking for a damn weapon, he should’ve followed Connor and watched his stupid back._

“Leprechaun!” Daryl called out and immediately started sprinting because the noise in the parking garage was still going on.

He’d just passed the other tent when he suddenly fell forward, very abruptly onto the ground. He didn’t even know what he’d fallen over when he felt a sudden and harsh pull on his right leg, something scraping across the fabric of his jeans there.

Daryl yelped once in sheer surprise and tried to turn on his back, looking down on himself only to start panicking. There was another walker, lying on the ground, holding on to him. He started kicking and wriggling, trying to fight the undead off who’d managed to trip him up during his sprint over to Connor. He hadn’t even paid any attention to this stupid tent, hadn’t bothered taking a second look at the walkers they had shot up or who had been shot up before in the tents. He cursed himself for that stupidity now, because otherwise he would’ve seen that one _stupid_ walker that had still been half inside the tent, trapped underneath the walkers they had killed - which had stopped the undead from getting up to walk in their direction as well.

And here that single, _stupid_ walker was now, with his rotten teeth buried in the front of Daryl’s leg, gnawing on the jeans there. Daryl kept struggling and fighting in panic, but the walker used his rotten dirty fingers to hold him in a tight grip, ripping Daryl’s jeans up even more, right where the holes by his knees had already been anyway. The fabric ripped and then there was nothing between the teeth and Daryl’s leg, even the struggling and fighting couldn’t stop the events from happening. Because then the walker bit down yet again, only that this time he got straight to the leg, without any fabric in the way, biting right down on Daryl’s right shin. Daryl yelped loudly and kicked and struggled even more, panicking until he eventually could function enough to realize that he had the knife in his hand. He leaned forward and then stabbed the walker in his head, killing him, only to stab him again and again as he lost himself in the fact that he had been _bit_.

Not now. Not fucking _now_. Not like this, not by a single fucking hidden walker when he’d been busy trying to get back to Connor, hadn’t watched his step for just a single _fucking_ moment. Daryl stabbed the walker two more times and eventually let go, falling back with a pained expression on his face, chest heaving, as he tried hard to keep it together. But here it was, the hyperventilation, the fact that it was impossible to run from this, let it slide, because it had _happened_. He could feel it, the uncomfortable tugging burning sensation in his leg, by his shin, where the teeth and fingernails had pierced through his skin.

Daryl breathed rapidly and harshly for a moment longer until he eventually and quickly sat back up, pulled the leg of his jeans up so he could observe the damage.

It really wasn’t even _that_ bad. That was the worst part. It almost looked like a simple bunch of scrapes. Ugly, but still, like he’d just hurt himself on a bunch of thorny branches or fallen somewhere and scraped his skin on asphalt. It was bleeding but not too much. Not as hard as he’d seen some others bleed after a bite. Yet, if he looked at it a little closer he could in fact see it as a bite mark, the scraping of _teeth_ , and a bit further up, the scratch marks of undead fingernails.

Maybe it was a good thing that that bastard had only managed to get him by his shin, where so little eatable flesh and muscle was anyway. He could try to fool himself that maybe that was enough to not make it that big a deal, but deep down he knew what it was. A bite, deep scratches from fingernails. Those and the rotten teeth, they were both infected. Carried the virus, the disease, the thing that burned everybody up with fever, killed them, brought them back.

Daryl pressed both his fists to his eyes for a moment, trying hard to battle the turmoil that came with the realization, but that was harshly brought to an end when Connor shouted for him to come. He looked up and back, in the direction of that parking garage his friend had disappeared of to just moments before, reminding him once again that in fact, it wasn’t over _yet_. He needed to get to his friend. He needed to help him however he could, needed to find that stupid brother of his. Even if it was probably the last thing he was going to do.

Connor couldn’t know. He would lose his shit. Daryl glared at his knife, wondering for just a moment if a quick amputation might save him, but he knew exactly that it would be worth shit because time was running out with every second that he wasted thinking about it, that even if he tried, his knife wouldn’t be sharp and good enough to cut through bone, that even he, tough that he was because of his past, wouldn’t be able to amputate his own leg without passing out halfway through. Even without all that – he’d be useless here in Atlanta, without a car and just one leg.

It had had happened, he was going to die anyway, so what was the point. At least he could hide it. That was the only good thing about it. He grabbed his knife, proceeded to cut at his shin in verticals, not deep, but trying to get rid of the teeth marks to make them look like simple scrapes instead, like he’d simply hurt himself somewhere on the run.

Connor was going to ask sooner or later. He needed to keep it from him as long as he could. Hiding it that way was the only way. Once he was done superficially cutting it up he then grabbed his red rag from his back pocket to wrap it tightly around the leg, covering the wound, stilling the superficial blood flow.

This would have to do.

He then pulled the leg of his jeans back down to hide it even further, smoothening the bigger hole and scratches and chew marks on his jeans. He then got up on his feet and carefully limped a few steps, testing the leg out. Right now, apart from the burning sensation around the infected wounds, the only thing that really bothered him was the tight grip of the cloth around his leg that kept his calf from truly flexing and working. But it still could be worse, he figured, so he properly started running, ignoring it. He knew his entire calf, Achilles tendon or other parts of his body could be missing now, had that bite happened anywhere else.

His heart was pounding nevertheless. Just intensifying the burning sensation with every beat, pumping the infected blood way faster through his body than he should.

* * *

 

He really wanted to fucking slap Connor when he got to him. Not just slap him. Beat him to a bloody pulp. He’d gotten bit for the fucker. Because he had been busy trying to _run_ to his rescue when he’d heard him yell, thought that maybe Connor had been shot, attacked, run right into an ambush or whatever else. Instead here he was. Connor, completely fine. Shouting and yelling and making all that ruckus because he was simply standing in front of a locked door. Nothing more. Just a fucking locked door.

“There ye are! Fucker locked this piece ‘a shit! He ran inta this building, I saw ‘im. Gotta be in there, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Connor said, ramming into the door once more, only to let go, turn around and jog towards the ramp that would lead them one story down. “He knew about Murphy. He saw him, he knows where he fuckin is. I say we go down there, there’s gotta be another entry t’that complex. I swear ‘m gonna pin the fucker down. Even if it takes me half te fuckin day. He knows some shit” Connor ranted and kept going, while Daryl clumsily tried to keep up with him.

Although he had been mad at Connor at first those emotions quickly started to wear off.

The more he thought about it…this was probably his last day he was going to spend with Connor after all.

 _Oh fuck_.

He felt a hard lump in his throat, knew that if he just started thinking about that too much now, he was going to lose it. Start bawling like a baby and put Connor through the wringer as well. _Oh shit no. They were not going to spend their last moments like that. No fighting. No arguing. No negative emotions in that regard. If Connor had to be angry, had to lose his shit and rant away, then he needed to keep going with the whole Murphy business. Nothing more. The leprechaun, pissed off, violent, rant-y, whining about his twin brother. He wouldn’t have it any other way._

“Where te fuck were you anyway? You alright?” Connor suddenly asked, having picked up on the way Daryl was acting.

_The leprechaun. Pretty sharp on top of everything else as well. Fuck, fuck fuck._

“What? Yeah. Yeah, just checked the tents and camp for some weapons, now that the fucker took my crossbow.”

Connor looked at him for a moment, eyes piercing, Daryl’s breath stopping. Then the Irishman seemed to let it slide and resumed his rant.

“Damn right he got yer crossbow, but chances are, now that he got all those weapons and doesn’t know jackshit about yer thing, he’s gonna start shooting at shit with his rifle sooner or later. We’ll hear ‘im.”

“Let’s do it” Daryl said, simply because he didn’t know what else to say right now. He didn’t even know if he was glad that they had a lead now, that they didn’t have to make their way through half the city just to get to the van, only to maybe find nothing at all. He didn’t have a clue how much longer he would be able to keep going after all. Very soon the fever was going to hit. He’d seen it happen so many times now. He was going to get slower and weaker.

Connor kept talking and planning about, but Daryl didn’t even listen to it too much, couldn’t. It sounded like he was underwater and his ears started ringing, everything seemed to go slower, like he was drunk. He was sure that this was the shock slowly kicking in. _Jesus fucking Christ. Not now. He was not such a fucking sissy. He was going to go out with a bang. It was just superficial. Just superficial. A scratch. Hershel had lost a goddamned leg and he’d still been fine._

“See?! I fucking told you!” Connor suddenly said, nudging Daryl hard and snapping him out of it. There were some gunshots not too far from their location. Connor stormed through the door that connected the car park to the building the stranger had disappeared in, not giving Daryl a chance to say anything or even adjust to the situation. Daryl followed as well as he could, but the shock and burning was really starting to kick in now.

He walked past dead bodies on the ground of the hallway, keeping an eye on them just so that this time, they _wouldn’t_ bite him again, but each dead body had wounds to their heads, making it obvious that they wouldn’t get up. The hunter caught glimpse of one of his arrows that was stuck in one of these heads, quickly grabbing it to get it back. So Connor was right after all. The kid really was in this building, and he’d given his location away simply by using _their_ weapons. Guns or not, he didn’t seem too smart after all.

Daryl jogged around a corner and came to a quick halt when he saw Connor standing there, waiting for him, once again giving him a suspicious frown. Daryl simply ignored him as he caught up with him, and Connor seemed to do the same yet again, picking up on the fact that the hunter seemed annoyed and didn’t want to chat. So instead, the Irishman focused on the task ahead and pointed at a walker that was pinned to the corner, still moving and growling although he had an arrow stuck in his throat, the arrow that kept him pinned in the first place.

“That’s one of yers, right?” Connor observed and Daryl grabbed his knife to stab the walker in his eye with a grunt.

“Yeah” he simply answered, feeling a bit better at last simply because they were standing for a moment, and because he could finally go back to killing walkers instead of getting fucking _bit_ by them. Maybe it really wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe he just needed to ignore it. Do the only thing he was good at anyway. Getting rid of them. Both in the real world and in his mind.

_Thinking and moping about it this wasn’t gonna do shit anyway. It had happened. End of story._

Another gunshot. They both looked at each other, only to start running yet again. This time Daryl was faster than Connor, pushing himself harder to fight the infection, the inevitable just a bit longer. He owed the Irishman after last night, after he had stayed behind with him, wasted an entire night to keep him safe so they could do this _together_. He figured he owed him the exact opposite of what they had both thought last night, that he was a liability, that he was slowing Connor down in the city. Not now. Not anymore. He was gonna do it. He was gonna keep it together.

So he ran even faster, following the noise down the hall while his friend was busy grabbing a machete from the ground. Daryl could already see what the cause of the noise was – the young man who had stolen their weapons was busy trying to kill a walker, struggling with her. Daryl was facing the back of the walker and saw his chance, running right into the undead to cause both to fall down, the walker right on top of the young stranger.

Daryl somewhat managed to keep his balance, although barely. He stumbled forward a bit, momentarily awfully aware of the bite on his leg. The running had made it worse instead of better, sending a hot rhythmic sting through the wounds, accompanied by the unmistakable soft flow of blood down his leg, pooling in the red rag he’d wrapped around the injury.

He closed his eyes for a moment and gritted his teeth hard, forcing himself to focus.  
The man’s frantic pleading and fighting made it easy though.

Daryl opened his eyes and looked at the mess that was happening, saw the young man on the ground, fighting the female walker on top of him with all the strength he had, using his rifle as he tried to keep her at a distance. But it was clear that he didn’t have the strength to keep this up, would get bitten sooner or later.

For just a moment Daryl found himself standing above them, watching it all unfold without doing anything. Maybe the kid deserved getting bit over this, too. If it weren’t for him and his stupid cutting up those tents, _he_ never would’ve gotten bit in the first place. If he’d had his crossbow, their weapons, maybe he could’ve made it. Made it out of this city along with Connor once they found Murphy. If it weren’t for _this guy_. Maybe it would be satisfying to see someone else get bit, have power over their life, punish them and be in control at least this way, although he knew it was fucked up.

“ HEY COME ON, I JUST TRIED TO PROTECT MYSELF, MAN. PLEASE HELP ME!” the kid was begging while Daryl just watched. “PLEASE, I JUST DON’T WANNA GO BACK TO THEM, I’M SORRY, I DIDN’T MEAN IT, I’M SORRY! PLEASE!”

“Daryl!” Connor then called out and stormed past his friend, so he could bury the machete he’d found in the skull of the walker on top of the young man. Connor shot Daryl an angry, then worried look, only to eventually fix his eyes on the other man again. “Thanks, oh thanks, man, thanks” he was panting, then Connor got rid of the dead walker and offered the man a hand to help him up. He then held on to him using the grip just so he wouldn’t run away again.

“Just yer damn luck that we needche kid! If you’d just waited and heard us out, ye could’ve spared yerself this fuckin mess!” Connor said and then even gave the young man a slap up the back of his head. “Now chill te fuck out” the Irishman added and let go once he was sure enough that the other wouldn’t just run away from them again. Connor used the moment to shoot Daryl another look, but the hunter simply ignored him and knelt down to get his crossbow back instead. He used the time to sort it out, while he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened, too. It wasn’t like he had wanted the kid to die or anything. It had just….happened.

He shifted his injured leg a little, trying to hide the blood stain.

“Now tell me everything ye can about my brother. Ye said ye saw him back at the place ye ran away from?”

Instead of looking at Connor and answering, the young man quickly limped over to the window instead to look outside.

“I gotta go. I gotta go. They’re gonna come. They probably heard the shot. If they find me, they’re gonna drag me right back and..”

“Drag you where? Where is this place? What did you see? What te fuck’s going on there if ye’re so eager ta get away? Did they do anything t’my brother, did they open him up or some shit?” Connor said angrily as he approached the man, grabbed him by his arms and then slammed him against the window. He then pointed a finger right in his face in a warning matter.

“You’re gonna tell me everything right fucking now or I’ll drag ye back there myself. Give me what I need, yer free ta go and I forget I ever met you if they ask.”

The man looked at Connor with wide eyes, still obviously panicked, then eventually shot a look at Daryl.

“The guy who looks like you, they brought him in yesterday night. I don’t know what’s the big deal with him, but they’re keeping him locked up tight. Standing guards, hand- and legcuffs, the whole deal. I mean, I know it’s always been bad, they don’t let you go, but cuffs and locked doors? That’s just insane. I just had to get out. I couldn’t hear it anymore. He’s the reason why I got out.”

Daryl had listened to the talk with a worried look on his face, worry that only increased when he saw how Connor took the news. Connor looked absolutely shocked at first, then sickened, then furious. His grip on the kid was getting so tight that his knuckles turned white and the young man winced.

“Where?” Connor asked again, and although the level of his voice was normal, he sounded far from it. He sounded furious, deadly, almost scary.

“Grady Memorial Hospital. It’s just a few blogs from here. I can draw you a map. But that’s about it. I’m not going with you, okay? I’m not” the man said and then looked at Daryl again.

It was then when they heard a noise outside on the street, the unmistakable soft screeching of a car brake.

The young man turned his head with wide eyes to have a look outside just like Connor, and Daryl quickly walked up to the window to check it out as well.

“White cross” he observed from his position as he warily watched the car drive past at a slow speed on the street below.

“Shit, they’re here” the young man said and suddenly fought Connor off, so they could get away from the window.

“We gotta go now. We gotta go. We gotta go” he repeated over and over again and shoved Connor away so he could get his things together.

“Why would we fucking go now? This is exactly what’ve been looking for! Hey, get back here!” Connor shouted and tried to rush after the young man, who simply got going.

“If they find us, if they find _you_ guys, they’re just gonna kill you. That’s what they do, if there’s someone stronger than them, someone who could put up a fight, they don’t take them in. They kill people who are a threat to them” the man explained as he kept going. “They got a lot of guns. People. Policemen. And ever since those people from Augusta showed up, they got a lot of military, too. Doctors. Scientists. They’re many. They’re smart.”

Connor shot Daryl a look, and when Daryl gave him a half nod half shrug that told him that he thought the kid had a point, Connor eventually simply followed him instead of trapping him yet again. Daryl then followed Connor along with it, just glad that Connor’s glare didn’t seem to have been about the fact that maybe he was catching up on his secret.

A secret he could barely keep now.

He soon followed them in what felt like a trance, couldn’t even really hear what Connor and the man were talking about, arguing about, discussing. He simply followed. Down some stairs, through hallways and rooms.The infection was already spreading. He could feel it. It really was worse than he’d initially thought. The running around, the fighting, the countless stairs, the frenzy of it all sped things up. Probably sped things up _too much_. The leg was slowly starting to _really_ ache, and now that he came to think of it, he suddenly had to remember Connor’s words, remember Connor’s description of what it felt like.

_At first yer shocked as hell. The bite hurts, but the shock won't let ye feel anything. Then ye feel real dizzy and sick. Then the real shit starts. Ye can feel it spreading. It's like someone's pumping thick oil through yer veins, only that it is hot, boiling._

This was _exactly_ what it felt like now. It was creeping up on him. Shit shit shit.

He looked up a bit as he followed Connor and the young man, kept his eyes fixed on Connor who didn’t have a clue, worried all about Murphy and getting there and nothing else right now. He felt a ping of sadness at the thought. Connor wouldn’t even fucking look at him right now, didn’t care. Of course - he couldn’t. Because he didn’t know, because he took him for granted, because to him, Daryl Dixon was a fact in his life.

He knew Connor _would_ care if he told him. Care very much in fact. A part of Daryl even really considered telling him, so he could get at least some attention, so he didn’t have to waste his last couple of normal hours in life being a background character in everybody’s life, only being relevant when it fit the others. He wanted to tell Connor, be honest with him, get this whole thing started so he could have at least _something_.

 _Because holy fucking shit did he love this guy in front of him so fucking much._ For such a long time now. He wanted him to help him through this huge pile of shit right now. He wanted them to go through this together, too. They shared everything. They were so comfortable with each other now. Everything was so fine now. He _needed_ Connor right now. His support, his attention, his friendship and everything else. If he could just fucking _look_ at him for Christ’s sakes.

He was starting to really consider it. Just telling him.

He was already slowing down more and more while they were making their way through yet another overly large and high end tile lobby.

Connor kept following the young man as he heatedly talked things through with him, how they could get to safety through one of the other buildings’ basement, talk things through and draw the map there. They were still discussing Murphy as well and Connor tried everything to get as much out of the kid as he could. Daryl slowed down even more and felt his heart sink over how _freaking worried_ his friend was, how _much_ he wanted his twin brother back unharmed.

Connor was obviously fighting very hard to keep his shit together this time. He tried to stay rational, levelheaded, his normal self that planned ahead and got things going. He was really trying to get better at this. Not freaking out. Not losing his shit. Not going psycho or overly pessimistic and cynic. He certainly was better at this than last year or after the fall of Woodbury. He still had himself under control. Despite the worry and fear, he still looked like he was positive they were going to find Murphy in time. The kid and the car had given him enough _hope_.

Daryl gritted his teeth, putting a lid on his emotions, barely walking anymore.

_He couldn’t tell him._

They needed to find Murphy first. As soon as Connor had his stupid brother back, maybe then he could tell him, so the guy had at least _something_. In the end, if he was really honest with himself, Murphy had always been the only one who truly mattered to Connor anyway. Until then, until he had helped Connor find his brother, he would have to keep his problems to himself. They were probably less important anyway. Hadn’t it always been that way.

He wanted to laugh at the incredible irony. He was the one who’d gotten bit, he was the one who was going to die for _sure._ And yet, he knew it would never crush or hurt him as much as it would hurt Connor. He wasn’t going to lose his shit or mind over his own death. Connor would. That was for sure. He could only lessen the impact by finding Murphy in time.

Whenever shit had hit the fan, whenever things had been terrible, it had always been this way. He had been the one to get hurt the most in a physical way. But he’d kept it to himself, around his mom, around Merle, around the group, now around Connor. Because he knew that if he told anyone, they’d have it worse than him. In the end, their problems had _always_ been more important. Always would be.

So just like any other time, he remained silent. Even when Connor shot him a short worried and questioning look over his shoulder, slowed down a bit so he could keep up, even while he was still talking to the young man who was now leading him through a set of glass doors, leading him outside. Connor disappeared through the door when Daryl gave him a slight nod, sped up again, let him know that he was right behind him. Always would be, as long as he could. He’d almost made his way over to the door when a voice made him stop dead in his tracks.

“ _You gonna cry now, pussy? Hm? Boo ain't lovin you back?”_

Of course he had to go back to this shit now, too.

Daryl stopped running and turned his head to the side, looked at the waiting area there. And there he was. Merle, chilling in one of the chairs, dirty boots on the glass table, sitting there, grinning at him, handless stump hanging lazily off his bent knee.

“ _Look at you, pathetic. All whiny feelings, barely keeping up already. I got shot in the gut and even I lasted longer than you. This is whatcha get for letting that mick turn yah into his sissy pansy. **It’s all his fault** , baby brother_.”

More of Merle’s creepy chuckling. Daryl found himself just standing there, staring to his right, at the waiting area, at what he _knew_ was just a hallucination of his brother. It was starting. His brain was already getting fucked up. He knew it was stupid, but he went along with it.

“That ain’t true” he simply said.

Sure, the moment that bite had happened, up until now, even _now_ he partially wondered if it was Connor’s fault, if he could and should blame him. He was here because of Connor after all. Because of that stupid brother of his. Without the whole bullshit, he never would’ve set another foot in Atlanta anyway.

But then again. It really _wasn’t_ Connor’s fault. He could blame the kid who was leading them around a lot more than Connor, but even then, it wasn’t _really_ that guy’s fault either. A _walker_ had bit him. Not the kid. Certainly not Connor. It had simply happened because he hadn’t paid attention for a second. Nothing more _. It had just happened._

_Besides. Connor was the best damn thing that had ever happened to him. The outcome truly didn’t matter._

“ _You keep tellin yourself that. Just look at the guy. He ain’t even lookin your way. All he cares about’s his bro. Always been that way. Why don’tcha man up, be with your good ol’ bro Merle instead. Stop foolin yahself. You know he ain’t ever gonna care about you as much as I did, brother.”_

Daryl turned his head, saw that Connor and the other man had crossed the street by now, were close to getting inside the other building without him, before the car probably caught up with them very soon. Connor was busy running and talking, back turned on him, really didn’t seem to bother even thinking about him and if he caught up with them, but then it happened.

Connor did turn around. Connor _was_ looking for him. Connor was staring at him with a confused and freaked out look on his face the moment he realized that his friend wasn’t behind them but still in the other building. The Connor was calling out for him, waving about with his hands to let him know that he was supposed to catch the fuck up. He was even on his way _back_ to give him shit for being so slow.

Daryl didn’t even look back at Merle. He simply and neutrally repeated his words.

“It ain’t true” he repeated and then gave Connor another nod, picking up speed, jogging towards the doors although his leg hurt.

He simply walked out on Merle, his own bad thoughts.

Connor was still shouting about, moving his hands around like crazy in the air, suddenly yelling something, but Daryl didn’t even hear it, didn’t even bother listening to it because just for a moment, he actually felt at peace with himself. He knew it wasn’t true. Not what Merle said. Not what he thought sometimes. After so many months of friendship, after so many weeks of slowly becoming more, entering a trusting and _deep_ relationship, after months of having each other’s back with or without Murphy around, he knew that he could always count on Connor, could count on this. And strangely enough, even with the bite, knowing just this felt _good_.

So he ignored all words, the outside world, focused on himself instead to keep his body moving although it was slowly starting to break down under the budding fever. He focused on each step instead, the breath in his lungs, the promise that if he just kept going, just kept walking and searching, he could help Connor find Murphy just in time after all, could give his impending death some true meaning.

He was half across the street when the impact happened within the blink of an eye, suddenly threw him off his already aching feet and spun him through the air. He was only vaguely aware of the second impact when it happened, how his body crashed into the car for a second time when he fell back down against the wind shield, cracked it right in the middle. A single and croaky gasp escaped Daryl’s mouth when all the sudden happenings finally slowed down, seemed to come to an equally sudden and soundless halt.

He hadn’t heard the car approaching at such a speed, hadn’t paid any attention to Connor’s motions and words that had told him to get back inside, off the road, to go and fucking hide because the car was coming, had seen them when Connor and the young man had crossed the road. He hadn’t heard or seen anything other than his friend across the street, his friend who had proven the voice of his dead brother wrong by simply turning around for him, looking at him.

He was only vaguely aware of how he crashed into the windshield when the car came to a screeching halt, slid down the hood of the car and back down to the ground with a _slump_. Then, with Connor’s agonized and piercing “NO!” somewhere in the blurry distance, everything went black.

* * *

 

He’d been screaming at Daryl for what felt like a whole goddamned minute to get back inside, to hide, to _not_ cross that fucking road because there was a car coming. He didn’t know why Daryl chose to ignore him. He didn’t know why Daryl wouldn’t listen to him, why he just kept staring at him with that strange look on his face, almost _smile_ , as he crossed that road – and walked right into that car’s path.

He honestly didn’t have a single fucking clue why Daryl would _ever_ do any such thing, but it had happened anyway. It had happened crazy fast in fact. The car had been even faster than he’d expected it to be from the sound of it. The impact looked absolutely _horrifying_ and brutal when it happened.

The front of the car collided violently with Daryl’s lower legs, catapulting him into the air, spinning him around and then smashing him into the windshield as the car came to a screeching halt. He rolled off the hood and then fell back down to the ground like a lifeless heap of nothing, not moving at all, bloody, probably with a whole bunch of broken bones. Just a fracture of a second, and he was lying on the ground.

_This couldn’t be fucking happening._

Connor screamed “NO!” as loud as he could, lungs vibrating with the sheer volume of it as it echoed through the entire neighborhood. He was just about to start running when the young man who he had just found out was called Noah, grabbed him by his shirt to hold him back.

“No! They’re gonna kill you, just let them take him, they can help him, they take care of…”  
  
“Let me fucking go! NO! DARYL! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! I’LL FUCKING KILL THEM! NO!” Connor yelled and fought hard, struggling and completely losing it at the sheer sight of Daryl on the ground like that. “LET GO OF ME!”

Noah tried to reason with him yet again but there was no reasoning. Instead, Connor suddenly punched him _hard_ in the face to get him to let him go, then he sprinted towards the car, towards Daryl, ignoring any voice of reason.

It was no surprise that he was immediately greeted by heavy guns out in the open. He even believed to remember one of the army guys from Augusta. He still came running towards them with both his hands in the air, trying to get to Daryl.

“I’M IMMUNE” he immediately yelled angrily and then pointed at the soldier he believed to recognize. “YOU piece af shit know me. Ye saw me. You motherfuckers already took my brother, and I swear ta fuckin god if ye don’t take him now and save him, I’ll kill each and every one of ye. YOU FUCKIN RAN HIM OVER! YOU DID THIS!” Connor roared and then tried to get to Daryl on the ground, but then the soldier was already on him, giving him a harsh blow to his leg to get him to kneel. Two policemen quickly approached Daryl with a simple gurney in the meantime.

“HE’S IMMUNE, TOO!” Connor quickly yelled when he saw them while he tried to fight the soldier, who was busy yanking the collar of his shirt down a bit to check for the healed bite wound, then the scar on his left arm to confirm that it was indeed Connor, the other case of immunity they had probably been told about.

The immunity that had fucked things up for both him and Murphy, but he knew it was the only thing that was probably going to keep Daryl alive now. He didn’t trust these fuckers who were taking a careful look at his unconscious, bloodied friend on the ground. Noah had told him. They considered people like Daryl a threat. Only a possible ‘cure’ or ‘immunity’ would mean anything to them. He didn’t want them to leave Daryl behind, kill him. Anything he could do to save his friend, help his friend, he was going to give it to them.

“He’s immune, too. So you better fuckin fix ‘im” Connor repeated with a breathy, panicked voice and ended up letting the soldier do his scar checking thing on him in the meantime. Because all he could do was watch in horror and panic how they put Daryl on the gurney. He widened his eyes in shock when he really got to see the injuries up close. Daryl’s legs were definitely broken. Dark bruises were forming already, practically everywhere. On his cut up face, his arms, everywhere. He looked _horrible_ like that.

“I won’t fuckin run off or fuckin fight ye as long as ye fuckin fix him, alright?! Just fix him! Just fucking fix him or I swear…” Connor immediately said, half begging as he watched them move Daryl past him to the back of the car. When Daryl was out of his sight, Connor really lost it. “FUCK!” he yelled and eventually toppled over a bit, giving in to the shock, staring at the ground as he gritted his teeth and formed tight fists on the asphalt.

He knew everything was shit now. He knew he was probably going to be locked up, too. Just like Murphy. But the truth was that he simply didn’t know what else to do. He _needed_ them to take Daryl with them. He _needed_ to be with Daryl after this huge fuck up. He _needed_ them to fix him up because he looked absolutely fucking horrible. He didn’t want his best goddamn friend in the world to _die_.

_Why the **fuck** hadn’t Daryl listened to him? Why the **fuck** had he run right in front of that fucking car?_

Even now he couldn’t get the sight of the crash out of his mind _. Shit._

_The impact. The broken bones._

He hit the ground hard with his fist, getting incredibly angry.

He should’ve fucking run for him to stop him. _He_ should’ve fucking been there, or just made sure that Daryl was keeping up instead of _this_ bullshit right here.

“Get up” the soldier then said, interrupting Connor’s freakout as he grabbed him by the back of his shirt. “Get in the car” the soldier went on as he dragged the Irishman along, keeping the gun aimed at Connor’s legs just in case, should he decide to run or do anything stupid. But Connor wouldn’t. He did as he was told without putting up much of a fight, getting into the car, almost insane eyes only fixed on his best friend in the back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt like I should add this little note right here. I'M SO SORRY.  
> I just had to. I hope you don't hate me too much *hides*  
> But trust me, I got a lot more coming for you.
> 
> If that's a good or bad thing is totally up to you.  
> Once again SORRYYY


	10. Grady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and happy new year! Sorry it took me more than a month to update this time. Birthday, christmas and new years was in the way. Plus I needed some time to get my head straight to try and get this chapter right. I'm 80 % sure that there's only two or three chapters left, and I wanna post them very soon. The series is coming to an end! Oh dear! In fact, I wanna end it before or around February 10th, because that's the date when I published the very first chapter of Salvation and this entire series back in 2012. (-four- years ago! Screeching!!)
> 
> Anyway, just like with the previous chapters that had 'medical' content in them, please excuse medical inaccuracies and possible scientific nonsense here. I'm taking advantage of my creative freedom here. Just pretend that this is all logical and how the infection/virus/whatever can work and that's how doctors talk okay ;D (I'm a helpless video editor/ media person, not a doctor after all)

He was ripped out of his unconscious state.

His awakening wasn’t gentle, wasn’t slow, it was traumatizing and fast, caused by the sudden uncomfortable pain somewhere in the back of his neck. At first, he couldn’t really locate where the pain was coming from, or why it was happening. In fact, for the first couple of seconds, he was busy trying to make sense out where he was in the first place. White linen. That was the first thing he saw.

Murphy started panicking and tried to move, tried to flee, but that’s when he noticed that apart from the pain in his neck, he also generally couldn’t move at all. His head, his arms and his legs were tied up. It only made the panic worse and he struggled more, against the restraints, fighting the pain in his neck and whatever was happening to him. He tried to turn his head in panic but couldn’t – he was still staring at the linen. It almost felt like he was _buried in the linen._

Immediate flashbacks shot through his mind like a bullet, memories of a pillow almost suffocating him when that soldier in Boston had tried to kill him back in the day. He wondered if he was back to that now, people wanting to kill him, people holding him hostage, and it sent whatever had been left of his sanity and calm over the edge. He kicked and trashed mindlessly, as he frantically tried to turn his head away from the suffocating fabric below him and the pain behind him. A panicked and agonized scream escaped his mouth and was muffled by the pillow as he couldn’t move.

“Pull it out, pull it out!” someone was shouting somewhere behind him as Murphy felt more and more hands on him. “He’ll drive it in even further with his struggling and’ll end up stabbing himself! What if he breaks the needle?!”

 _Needle_.  
  
Holy fucking shit. That’s what was in the back of his neck.

A loud and horrified scream escaped his mouth once more and was partially muffled by the pillow that seemed to suffocate him, at least until he felt another even sharper and painful stab in the back of his neck, then it was gone and replaced with even more hands instead. Fingers were pressed against his neck where the stab had happened, another pair of hands was placed on the back of his head as the smell of alcohol or disinfectant filled the air.

He struggled more and more for what felt like hours until the restraints to his head were loosened and the hands slowly turned his head to the side a bit.

“LET GO OF ME!” he immediately yelled in horror, followed by another panicked scream when the restraints around his head were fastened once more. Murphy blinked and squeezed his eyes shut at the harsh sunlight that hit his face, tried to enter his eyes violently now that he was facing a window to his left. The moment the restraints were in place again he became even more aware of how he was completely immobile. He couldn’t even move an inch and hands were still all over him, the light was still blinding him. After a few seconds he was _finally_ able to see people around the bed he was tied to, could make out the interior of a hospital room, a burned city skyline outside the windows.

Although he was still terrified and disorientated, he was quickly beginning to make sense of everything. First of all, he was actually lying on his belly. That’s why the pillow had nearly suffocated him before they had adjusted his position. Secondly, next to the hospital furniture. He could also make out white overalls and rubber gloves that were holding a syringe with strange liquid-ish matter in it.

Widening his eyes in shock, Murphy immediately managed to come up with the connection. This was the thing these people had stuck in the back of his neck somewhere. This was what had caused him that uncomfortable pain that had awoken him. That _thing_ had been stuck in him just a moment ago. And they had only pulled it out of him because his thrashing about could’ve killed him. Although he was immediately back to the yelling and screaming and fighting when they put their hands on him again to soothe him, he actually took note of that important last part. They had stopped because it could’ve killed him. Meaning that they _didn’t_ want to kill him. But that was pretty much about it with the _good_ news.

“Murphy, hey, Murphy, Mr MacManus, it’s okay. Can you see me from there? You need to calm down” someone said to his right, and at first, Murphy seriously considered just ignoring the guy and keeping the fight up instead. But the man wouldn’t shut up, and the younger MacManus got more and more distracted by how the fuck this man could know his name. Plus the stupid question made him angry. They had strapped stuff around his head to keep it fixated. _How the fuck was he supposed to see the guy?_

He struggled and fought angrily as he tried both to get free and look at the dumbass.

“Please, you need to stop struggling, you’ll only hurt yourself! I know it’s confusing and terrifying for you, but we had no other choice but to restrain you. Relax and try to focus on me alone if you can.”

“Hey, he told you to look at him!” some other man to Murphy’s left said and then actually grabbed him by his black hair to yank his head up more and that _forcefully_ , which made the younger MacManus yelp and move his head frantically in the other direction as he tried to get rid of the bruising and aching grip.

“FUCK YOU! LET GO OF ME YOU PRICK!” he immediately roared but then eventually and _finally_ managed to look at the man who had asked nicely and was now shouting at the other grabby guy. “HEY! I told you he isn’t to be touched or harmed in any way! You _know_ how important and valuable this man is! I fixated his head for a reason! He’s supposed to stay still! I said focus, not look!”

Murphy just stared at the man in the white lab coat with wide eyes, now that he could finally see his face. He never would’ve thought that he’d really see this guy again. Not when he’d managed to get hundreds of miles away from them, not when months had separated them by now. He quickly looked outside the window once more, squinting against the sunlight. For a short, terrifying moment, he thought that maybe he’d been taken right back to Augusta. That these hundreds of miles separated him from everyone else yet again. But the skyline didn’t fit. The buildings were too tall. There were too many skyscrapers. This wasn’t Augusta.

He moved his eyes again to stare back at the man with a terrified look on his face, but there the guy was, unmistakable. The calm, competent and intelligent demeanor, the exhaustion that radiated him, the almost kind and fatherly eyes, if it weren’t for what was behind all that. Professor Smith from Augusta. There was no mistaking him. There was no other guy who could look this normal and talk so reasonable but do this fucked up shit with needles –without permission- at the same time.

He was back.

“No!” he exclaimed and started fighting the restraints again.

This was all wrong.

It was all coming back to him now. Taken. That’s what’d happened. He’d been kidnapped. One moment he’d been talking to Connor, talking to Daryl, watched them disappear inside the garage of that abandoned gas station, the next there had been screeching tires, the struggle and a stab to his neck, an emptied syringe, then the darkness. He had no idea for how long he’d been out because of that drugging bullshit. He had _no_ idea where they’d taken him. He literally could be anywhere. The last he remembered was the scattering of glass, gunshots, a horrified “MURPH!” somewhere inside the gas station.

 _Connor_.

Kicking and fighting, he stared at Smith as the realization truly hit him.

Behind the man, Murphy noticed a “Get well soon” poster on the wall. It was absolutely grotesque.

“Where the fuck am I?! Where’s my brother?! Where’s Connor?! Let me go right fuckin now or I swear I’ll fockin kill yah! I don’t wanna be here!” he yelled and hot, angry tears shot to his eyes because this was so fucked up.

“Give him a mild sedative, Elizabeth. You, gentlemen, please leave the room. You can keep watch in front of the door, you’re only adding up to the stress and we can’t have that right now” Smith said to the other people in the room and completely ignored Murphy instead, who was having yet another panicked fit of rage when the nurse approached him yet _again_ with another syringe.

“Sir, are you..”

“Yes I’m sure. You’ve done your fair share of escalating the situation enough already.”

“With all due respect, doc, we got our orders. After what happened last time we’re not…”

“ _With all due respect_ , he’s tied to a bed, we’re 13 stories above ground, there’s no river and plenty of your men and police officers outside that door. I think we can all agree that even he understands that there is no getting away from us this time. Now please. Leave. Your added stress messes with my patient’s blood levels.”

Murphy’s breathing sped up and everything _certainly_ added to his stress level, but he kept his mouth shut for now as he waited for most of the others to leave the room just like Smith had requested. It was good to hear that they were about to leave ( _especially_ the guy who’d grabbed him like that) when he was so vulnerable and trapped. It didn’t exactly do anything about the general problem, but it was something to hold on to, at least.

And yet… Thirteen stories above ground. No river. Probably at least four times the men keeping watch - now that they had proper army men and police force on their team, as Murphy noticed when the men and women finally headed for the door. All in uniform, all official and real deal looking. He really seemed to be back to that shit. A Boston, part two _. Proper_ military. _Proper_ authority. Proper doctors and scientists. He’d really hoped and thought that any such thing had died by now. That this new world order had taken over, that Smith and his people - after losing him, after losing Connor - had simply given up or been killed by those thugs in Augusta. But here they were.

Of course they wouldn’t let go. Of course they wouldn’t let this slide.

Billions of people had died because of a disease and he and Connor carried something in them that could fight this whole mess after all.

Maybe it was the sedative kicking in. Because although most of them had done as Smith had wished, although they were gone and it was just him, the nurse Elizabeth and Smith in here, the fight somehow left Murphy and only the battle against the angry and harsh tears was left.

So many people. So many stories. So many restraints. The kidnapping and the unknown city. It was incredibly fucked.

Smith finally approached him and checked the back of his neck, until he eventually stopped, knelt down a bit and looked Murphy in the eye.

“Please excuse all this. You left us no other choice after what happened this summer.”

“Where the fuck am I” Murphy asked yet again, glaring at Smith and just cautiously trying to get out of his restraints although he knew that it was completely useless. “Where’s m’brother.”

“You’re in Atlanta. Grady Memorial Hospital. We moved our quarters little over a month ago when we made contact with the police force here.” Smith explained and then pierced Murphy with yet _another_ needle, only that this time, it was inserted into the fine veins of his hand to draw blood there. Murphy flinched and cursed, trying to get away, but he was left completely helpless and exposed to whatever they wanted to do to him.

“Your brother will be here, too. Soon enough.”

“I’m gonna fuckin kill ye” Murphy breathed yet again, after a moment, because he felt incredibly exposed, felt incredible rage and hatred for these people who were doing these things against his will once more.

“You know, I’d have every right to the say the same thing to you” Smith said, calmly drawing the blood until he was finished, then he removed the syringe and rubbed Murphy’s hand to stimulate the blood flow, warmth and closing of the tiny puncture. “My son lost a leg because you and your brother were too selfish to help find a cure” Smith added and then simply looked at Murphy. “God knows I could’ve spared him the trauma of an amputation without anesthesia and the right tools if you hadn’t run. All I would’ve needed was more blood to stop the first event in time. But we didn’t have any left after excessive testing of what we had of your blood after you ran away.”

The younger MacManus just kept staring at the man, wondering if he was bluffing. But then again. Why the hell should he.

“My kid nearly died because of you, and yet here I am” Smith added, then moved above Murphy’s figure…to open up the restraints.

“Daniel!” the nurse immediately shouted, but the Professor went ahead nevertheless.

“Please move cautiously. I just obtained some of your cerebrospinal fluid. You mustn’t move your head in an abrupt manner or it could…”

Murphy moved on an instant, twirling around on the bed so he no longer had to lie in that uncomfortable position. At first, he instinctively thought about punching Smith to knock him out and flee. He knew the nurse would be no problem. He still knew her from Augusta. He knew how she was. He also knew that Smith deserved the punch, but for some reason, maybe because of the sedation, maybe because of things Smith was talking about, maybe because of his confusion, he wouldn’t do any such thing.

Or maybe this was Connor finally rubbing of on him.

 _Fuckin think it through_. _What’s it gonna do_. _13 stories. Military and police. Yer outnumbered. You throw a punch and run_ now _, what’s it gonna do? Jump out the window – die for sure. Run for the door – get overwhelmed outside cos they’re expecting ye. Get caught – additional security. More cuffs. Less opportunity. Play your cards right ye fuckin hothead._ Wait _fer the right opportunity to bolt._

He moved and turned around – to sit on the bed. No attack. He just sat there and glared at Smith. Ready for any occasion anyway, but listening to him. No more abruptness.

“Please, lie back down and try not to move your head too much. I removed your restraints. I’m not going to kill you” Smith said, looking back.

He actually seemed a _bit_ surprised by the outcome. But he still remained calm and ‘soothing’ on the outside.

Murphy scoffed.

“Right. Yer just gonna open my head up and screw around with my brain. Stop bullshittin me. I still know what ye told me about this whole immunity bullshit.”

“No. I don’t have to operate on you. Not anymore..”

This actually left Murphy speechless and dumbfounded at first.

“….Wha?”

“All I need from you now is blood samples, samples from your cerebrospinal fluid and bone marrow. Just like I said. Not gonna kill you.”

Murphy just continued to stare at Smith, really confused. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how the guy worked by now. That really was the most dangerous part about him. With him, everything sounded reasonable, everything sounded okay and doable. Until the great catch came. Back then, the catch had been that they could find a cure but they would have to operate on him. Open up his head to get to the infected part of his brain that had somehow managed to battle the dying and turning after a bite. Just like back then the catch was still the same now, too. He wouldn’t be allowed to leave, it wasn’t up to him to decide what he wanted to provide for that cure. No matter what, there would be needles stuck into him.

So it didn’t really surprise him that his gut instinct told him not to trust the guy when he said that he wasn’t going to operate and kill him with the risky procedure. But if it was really true and the operation was unnecessary, then he was _really_ confused and maybe even a bit ashamed of himself. _What if the guy had found something during these past couple of months, with the blood samples and all the notes he’d taken because of him and Connor? What if the procedure really was unnecessary now? But why? How did it work? What if he and Connor hadn’t ran? Would the guy have been able to find something way earlier? Without any head sawing business? Maybe they could’ve spared the kid the whole amputation thing? If it was true?_

“But..you said..back then ye said ye had ta operate and..”

“I’ve almost cracked the code. There’s only very few elements missing. With all the samples I still had from you two, and all the samples I now have because of you, I’m really close to the final engineering process. We already had a prototype in testing to stop the primary event – the stage one and two blood poisoning, fever, general infection. That’s what you’ve provided and are providing again now…”

“You told me that ta stop the dying and coming back, ye need the shit that’s in our brains and that…” Murphy tried again, but Smith interrupted him once more.

“That is correct” he said and Murphy just stared at Smith again, blinking, trying to process this for a moment. But nope. He didn’t get it.

“The fuck???” he asked, completely confused. It wasn’t like he was stupid. But this was seriously beyond him now.

Smith took a deep breath and then released it with a sigh, looking down.

“You’re here because we need your brother, Murphy” he eventually said.

“We need you both of course, but _he’s_ the last missing piece. We need the mutated and altered pathogen that is inside your brains, you're right. You need to understand this. When you both got infected, when the secondary event was supposed to take place, something else happened instead. From what I understand, you and your brother were both clinically dead for a short period. The primary event killed you just like everybody else. The fever, the poisoning, the blood loss. But your secondary event was different. Your reanimation period was extremely short. Your reanimation triggered an entirely different secondary event. Your _entire_ brain was jump started. Not just the brain stem like with everybody else. This has never happened before because it should be scientifically impossible. But it still happened, your entire brain was restarted and altered the pathogen inside your stem along with it. It is extremely valuable and needs to be examined and tested so that we can reverse eng…”

“You already told me all this shit, so you _do_ need ta fuckin open us up, stop fuckin around here!” Murphy yelled and finally tried to attack Smith but before he could do so, Smith had already wrapped one cuff around Murphy’s wrist again and pulled it shut. A second later, Elizabeth was on him to take over that side, to keep Murphy from opening it up again while Smith jogged over to the other side to, after some wrestling and struggling, cuff his other arm to the bed again as well.

He let Murphy curse and fight and struggle for a while, until the younger MacManus eventually slowed down, seemed to give up, seemed to pay more attention to him again. Smith then finally started talking once more.

“Your brother, he found you, didn’t you? He was with you, with that group? Was he the one who shot at our men when you were extracted?”

“Fuck you! I ain’t gonna tell ye shit! There’s no way yer getting _him_ you fuckhead” Murphy exclaimed angrily and went right back to fighting his restraints like before, his previous trying to be smart about this instantly forgotten. But it wasn’t like he needed to be smart to get information. Smith kept spilling it anyway in his desperate and stupid attempt to get him on their side, to get him to understand his fucked up views and ideas.

“Just _try_ to understand this! If you both’d just cooperate with us then _all_ of this could be over soon! The procedure may be risky, but that’s exactly the reason why we won’t perform it on _you_! We don’t _want_ you two to die, we don’t want to risk it, you’re simply too important and valuable to die. We’re not the enemy here, we’re on your side! We want the same thing! I understand how difficult this is for you and how fucked up and dangerous this seems. Your brain is too fragile and prone to complications after the trauma you sustained from the projectile. You were lucky enough to survive that intervention. There’s little to no chance to perform brain stem surgery on you now and see you survive it without complications and permanent damage. You have every right to fear any of it. I get it, okay?”

“Then fuckin quit it! Even you say it’s not fuckin worth it and too risky, so why the fuck am I still here?!” Murphy roared and Smith finally lost it, too.

“Because we _need_ this cure, don’t you understand?! That risk is for the greater fucking good! Our entire race, our future depends on it, so stop being so fuckin selfish you stupid prick!” he snapped back. Both fell silent and just glared at each other, until Smith slowly got rid of his glasses, looked down, and started cleaning them almost mechanically. But it was obvious that he was trying hard to get his calm demeanor back.

“Your brother is perfectly healthy. Unlike your case, his brain is not damaged and hasn’t been operated on yet. He’d stand a good chance to provide samples for research and the cure all the while surviving it some way. We didn’t get him along with you yet, so you’re here to provide further samples until we get him on location, too. And now that we’re here and _two_ cases exist, now that we have electricity, the right equipment and a bigger, trained staff, we can pull this off without the risk of losing your case of immunity permanently.”

Murphy was consumed by such an intense rage and sheer tidal _wave_ of emotions he was pretty sure he was about to explode. The urgency of it all, the fuckedupness of it all was hitting him like a train at high speed. _So_ many things were wrong with all this.

Of course he got it. Everything.

But he _wasn’t_ fucking selfish, and that made him so fucking mad. He _would_ be willing to die for the greater good. He _would_ be willing to die to provide a cure, to end all this, just like Connor. But he’d seen their country. He’d been through it fucking all. He’d seen it on television, seen the pictures in old newspapers, seen cities dead and burning. He’d seen hundreds and millions of undead people, seen maybe less than a hundred alive ones during an _entire_ year. He’d seen at least half of them murder each other. Eat each other. Torture each other.

What was really the ‘greater good’ these days? Who the hell was left with enough credibility to make him actually believe, be certain that with his death, with Connor’s death, a cure was **actually** going to be found, to be made and be useful? Because certainty was more important these days than just simple blind faith and nativity. **Certainty** kept people alive. Not possibilities. Religion and faith helped, but it was only a bonus now.

_How was he of more use to Connor, to Samantha, to Suzie, to Rick and his child and all the others?_

_Dead and no cure? Protection from walkers? No. Protection from people, murder, rape, cannibalism, theft? No. Family, support, keeping them away from grief and depression? No. Connor had tried to commit suicide when he’d thought he’d lost him. Connor had tried to follow him in death. He knew how much it had damaged Connor. A death like that would NOT be for the greater good for any of his loved ones._

_Dead but as a cure? Protection from walkers? Check. Protection from people? No. Still grief, still depression. Survivors guilt. Not really that good._

_Alive? Protection from walkers? Check. Protection from people? Check. Family, support, no grief, no depression? Check. Definitely of use._

The so called greater good simply wasn’t the cure and what was left of humanity any more. The greater good, back then, before the outbreak, hadn’t been people either. It had been society. Morality. Justice. A life worth living. Culture. Principles. Working infrastructure and working organisms. The law. Religion. The Ten Commandments. ALL of that was gone. The country was dead. Society and civilization was dead.

The cure wasn’t going to keep the law upright. It wasn’t going to do anything about justice, morality, principles, religion, society, infrastructure. In fact, it was probably going to be used to worsen them even more, used as an advantage and privilege and for blackmail and even more murder and fighting over it. Hadn't it always been that way.

No, only if he and Connor were alive they could keep up their old promise, their work. Fighting for justice and morality and principles and basic law and civilization. Killing walkers and evil scumbags and every other threat to a life worth living. They could provide all that only by being alive.

The greater good now? Now that everything else had ceased to exist, was gone forever in that form ? _Family_ was the greater good. Connor was the greater good. And Daryl. And Sam and Suzie and Rick and the group. Being _alive_ to provide for them was more important and a greater good than a cure that was only going to eliminate _one_ problem with the walkers. He wanted to be there to raise Suzie and teach her how to protect herself from alive scumbags. He wanted to be there to marry Samantha and have a child with her instead, to make sure that there were future generations. He wanted to be there to protect Connor from going through all that pain _again_.

_And was that really so selfish? To not want to die to be there for his loved ones, to help them, protect them, keep them safe this way?_

More importantly: _Was it really so fucking selfish to **not** have his brother possibly die in a complicated and dangerous surgery that they wouldn’t even perform on him **because** it was so risky?_ Connor was the only family, the only blood relative he had left from the time before the outbreak. He’d only just found him. There was no way he was losing him again. He was his _twin_ brother, dear god.

Even if he didn’t take all that into consideration – He’d already pretty much died once. Smith had said it. Dying had been fucking _horrible_. He was still traumatized by that. He didn’t want to go through it again and for a final time this time, didn’t want to put his brother through it either. He wanted to live. He wanted Connor to live.

He understood what Smith was all about. He really did. After all, Smith was applying the same principles. Smith wasn’t doing it for the greater good either. He’d given it away earlier. He was doing it for his own community, his own family. He was doing it for his son. To protect him from possible future attacks, more amputations and horrifying events. He was doing it for his staff to keep them going and working, to save his own ass because he was only being protected and escorted around by heavy military _because_ he was close to curing this thing.

No matter how much he hated it, no matter how much he wanted to see it differently…

Those were simply the new rules. And they all, the remaining survivors who were still here, had adapted to them.

To each their own. Or be a yet another unimportant, daily, simple +1 to the billion death toll. As sad as it was, that’s the way it was now.

And this was exactly the reason why he felt such a turmoil of emotions. Of rage and frustration and depression and shame and panic and everything at once.

He still felt ashamed of himself and Connor, partially _did_ agree that they had been and were selfish. He _wanted_ to live in this lily-white perfect world where everything was magically going to work out as soon as a cure was found, that all remaining citizens of the United States were magically cured of the disease, that all the walking corpses dropped dead and stopped biting and eating people, that all remaining survivors would magically come together and form a new peaceful society and country. That they would find a cure, that he would get married, have children, that all the children would be safe and could grow up normally in the future, that he and Connor would grow old and grey together and die of natural causes instead of being murdered or chewed to death or starving to death sooner or later. He _wanted_ to believe all that, that the cure really was so important and going to change _so_ much.

But it wasn’t true.

And that only added up to the rage.

He was just about to rant away at Smith again, to try and reason with the man, to bargain with him, give some blood and what else he wanted in exchange for being allowed to leave, to cooperate, to not have Connor killed, but he never got to speak any of that out.

Because then Smith’s Walkie Talkie came to life with a crackling sound.

“Professor! We need you downstairs immediately!”

Smith frowned angrily and started at Murphy a moment longer, only to move and grab his walkie as he turned away.

“What’s the matter? I’m in the middle of an examination, can’t Pertwey deal with this?”

“Negative, Sir. We found them. One of them sustained severe injuries in a car crash. We need you. We got the info that he’s immune.”

Smith paled and tensed, just like Murphy when the true meaning of these words hit him.

“I’m on my way” Smith said and got on the move on an instant.

“Elizabeth, get the guards in here, secure him and come to the ICU immediately.”

“Will do.”

“Hey! Hey, please, no, tell me they’re not talking ‘bout ‘im, TELL ME THIS ISN’T ABOUT MY BROTHER!” Murphy yelled, completely losing it as his mind replayed the info he’d caught.

Severe injuries. Car crash. ICU. Immunity.

Smith stormed outside the room. Three soldiers entered instead as Elizabeth fastened the handcuffs, while the other men proceeded to try to cuff his legs again as well. Murphy struggled and fought violently as he continued to scream for Smith, demanding answers and explanations, praying to _god_ that the radio message hadn’t been about his brother at all because he didn’t know what was worse. The possibility that Connor was really injured, or that he was here after Smith had just told him he was going to open up his head to cut pieces out of his brain.

He fought and struggled and screamed but to no avail, for the cuffs and soldiers were unforgiving.

* * *

  _It almost felt like a sensory overload. The lights of passing cars were moving rapidly. Up and down the interstate, faster and faster, the red and white lightspots forming a blurry formation of glowing lines. The clouds were passing by like someone was fast forwarding a movie. Dark grey against blue, against orange, against bright yellow and white, the golden glow of the city lights below._

_Atlanta was vibrantly alive._

_He found himself standing on top of the hill, the last tree line of the woods left and right to his figure. The view was breathtaking. The cars were breezing by on the interstate, the crowds of people were a busy, equally fast blur on the streets, the shopping alleys and pedestrian zones. Laughter, joy, chatter, discussion, a soothing mess of carefree and safe everyday words._

_Everything was moving, everything was alive and breathing like a rhythmic tidal wave. There he could see it, hear it, the distant roar of a blinking passenger plane in the night sky. The washed out symphony of car horns and howling, accelerating motors below._

_There he could feel it, smell it. The fresh breeze blowing all the way up here from the meadow, the clearing._

_He turned around, crossbow in hands. One swift motion – the flying, precise arrow next to a flying eagle above in the afternoon sky. He could hear it, the sharp and fast zap of the metal, the feathery end as his arrow flew through the air and then ZAP!_

_It landed in the neck of an unsuspecting rabbit._

_He could feel it, the constant soft breeze of the hot summer air against his face, entangling and moving his outgrown black bangs, carrying the scent of nature close to him._

_A sensory overload and the smell was oh so familiar, comforting. Fresh grass, autumn leaves, wet moss and mud, trails in the dirt, the soft smell of blood and copper from hunted game. There were deep green pines and the snowy Rocky Mountains in the distance, trails of red and white light trails and crowds of lively people in the clearing._

_Here it was, a tap on his left shoulder, the shove to his right side while he’s busy looking to his left. An amused chuckle, the hard shove and the sensation of falling backwards and he’s just lying there in a sleeping bag, staring at the ceiling of his tent, breathing in deep, then out, slowly. Feeling comfortable, at peace. At home._

_“Hey, so do tell me, how many lesbians does it take ta screw in a lightbulb?”_

_Daryl smirked whole heartedly, his eyes almost squinted shut because he was so happy at the sound of this voice. He turned his head and looked at Connor next to him in the tent._

_“Takes two lesbians t’screw in a light bulb” the hunter answered, still smiling like that. “And you're not fuckin invited” he added, and Connor did what he’d been waiting for. An equally wholehearted smirk then laughter as he turned around a bit to hit him with an amused “Oh, shut it ye asshole.”_

_And they scuffled and shoved and threw lazy insults at each other just like they always did, until Daryl pinned the Irishman to the ground, gently pressed him into the sleeping bag. He leaned forward with that stupid grin of his to kiss his friend, to tell him how much he loved him, mattered to him, how he would die for him._

_Even though his jokes weren’t even funny._

_“So that’s it, huh.”_

_Snapped out of it, almost violently. Unforgivingly._

_“Happily ever after. Well Halle-fuckin-luja.”_

_Daryl moved upwards. Just sitting there, the sleeping bag covering his legs._

_The tent, the scenery was gone. Instead, there it was. Campfire. Dancing, spiking red, orange flames against the dark. Connor was there, opposite him, opposite the fire, just standing there, face illuminated by the flames. He no longer carried that carefree and friendly, almost cocky smile. Instead, his features looked hardened, neutral, maybe even a bit grim._

_“D’ye really think it’s that easy?”_

_There it is again. A swirl of colors and fast forward motions- rapidly moving clouds above. White headlights. The sound of car engines._

_The screeching of tires. The sharp and harsh ZAP-like impact. Like an arrow suddenly hitting a rabbit in the neck at full speed. The swaying of half burned tree in the wind, somewhere to the right, off center, distorted and skew, upside down. The falling sensation. Forward. Spinning, backward, fast forward. End._

_Connor was standing there, across from him and the fire, staring at him, face bloodied, beat up, half dead, bloody shoulder. A glass shard buried deep in his thigh. Dripping blood. **Bitten.** _ White, cloudy eyes, **turning.**

_“Get up.”_

_Walking right through the fire. Everything started burning. His legs - everything **was** burning, and yet he still kept coming, right through the fire, slowly decaying, slowly turning._

_“GET UP” he demanded and shoved him, **hard**_ **,** _causing him to fall backward instead of getting up._

Daryl woke up with a start, ripped out of the dream with that strange sensation one had after dreaming of falling. He let out a shaky, weak croak when a wall of pain seemed to collapse on top of him right after, pulled him out of this dreamlike state even faster. The pain and burning in his entire body was excruciating, paralyzing. And he really couldn’t move. Neither his legs because the pain was the worst there, because they seemed to be trapped somehow, nor his arms or torso because he had crippling stomach pains, chest pains, because everything simply _burned_ and pulsated.

His breathing sped up and he started panicking, blinking rapidly, trying to move his head, but that was trapped, too. In in an incredibly uncomfortable tube like…thing, like a turtleneck that was made out of concrete.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s okay. Don’t move, yer pretty messed up. Jesus fuckin Christ yer fuckin messed up.”

A gentle hand on the top of his head, stroking the hair there, the soothing voice, the gentle, worried icy blue eyes that met his, here in this hellish place called reality, the here and now. His breathing was still going rapidly, close to hyperventilation, but the voice, the sight was doing its job.

Connor.

Connor was right there. His best friend was right there, talking to him, trying to calm him down. He had no idea where he was, what had happened, why the fuck he was so messed up, but at least he had something to hold on to now. He let out yet another croak, trying to form words, but it still needed too much sorting out. Wanting reach out but Connor seemed to read his mind because _he_ reached out instead, grabbed his hand and moved and squeezed it hard, rhythmically, only adding up to the pain. But it was a good pain, a pain to hold on to, so Daryl squeezed back as hard as he could as well.

“You’re in a hospital, alright. Proper deal. These motherfuckers hit ye with their car, but they tried ta fix ye up as good as they could fer now. Ye only just got outta surgery.”

Car crash. Surgery. No wonder he felt high as a kite next to the very obvious and prominent pain. He only remembered bits and pieces. A flash of Connor’s face here, cracking glass there, an awful lot of scraping, painful asphalt. Some screaming and weird excited chattering. A glimpse of the passing world outside the window of a moving car, wreckages, buildings, trees and clouds zapping by as he snapped in and out of consciousness.

The car crash.

The pain in his legs came back suddenly, twice as hard. He panicked once more and tried to look down, but the concrete turtleneck hardly made it possible to do so. He caught a glimpse of his naked toes sticking out of a cast that enclosed his entire left leg.

Broken. That’s why it hurt like a bitch. That was the side the impact had probably happened on.

He instinctively tried moving his toes but they wouldn’t respond. Panicked, he immediately thought that he was paralyzed, but then he noticed and remembered that he was holding on to Connor’s hand, that all his fingers were moving, saw that the toes on his right foot were moving, too. But there was another sharp, even more intense pain shooting through that leg right then and there. Connor certainly was right. He was _pretty_ messed up. He croaked again, his voice breaking as he tried to form words, until he eventually managed, moving, trying to get closer to his friend.

“…’bout..you?”

Connor scoffed and let go of Daryl’s hair.

“I’m not the one who ran right inta a fuckin car. Jesus fuckin Christ, what were you thinking, man?” he said angrily, but when his gaze met Daryl’s, he leaned back down again with an exasperated sigh and pressed his forehead to the hunter’s.

“Fuck” he muttered, swallowing hard because even now he couldn’t get the sight of that horrible crash out of his head. But he knew that he needed to focus. “I’m alright” he eventually added and scoffed yet again. “But ye nearly gave me a heart attack, you stupid cunt” he said then leaned down to kiss Daryl, trying to soothe him more. After a short moment he opened his eyes and moved his head a little, giving the other four people in the room a deadly, ice cold glare.

Their bodyguards were there. Of course they were after what had happened last time. They made it pretty clear that this was very different. As if they needed to be _any_ clearer about this after all the violent takings. No getting away from them this time. Although the kiss was soothing and seemed to help Daryl, he hadn’t even mainly done it for him. Everything was a game of chess now. And it was just another move. He eventually stopped kissing and stroking and soothing his friend to sit up a bit more and glare at the soldiers, nurse and Smith in the room.

“Bit of privacy?” he demanded and one of the soldiers, the one they both recognized from Augusta, scoffed.

“So you can pull another stunt? No way. You’re not getting away this time.”

“He’s a pile of broken bones because of you. And I came along with ye willingly. So ye can give us five fockin minutes, can’t you?”

His venomous words seemed to cut through the air like a razor. The soothing manner, the worry and slight panic was gone and Connor turned yet again into a very dangerous and intimidating man. He shot them a challenging angry, and yet calm and patient look, until it was Smith who eventually gave in.

“Let’s give these gentlemen some space.”

The soldier scoffed yet again.

“Gentlemen…queers’s more like it.”

He wouldn’t move an inch and instead shot Connor a look, obviously challenging him, waiting for a reaction. But Connor wouldn’t give him any other than that dangerous, ice cold glare. It actually surprised the soldier a bit and he got a little uncomfortable.

Daryl was aware of the happenings around him, wanted to react to the insult instead but couldn’t. For the past couple of minutes, he’d been busy trying to move. To get rid of his confinement, to sit up, to no longer be miserable so he could check on the rest of his body. One of these simple, delicate movements put an end to all that, zapped him right back out of the here and now as the world around him seemed to slow down with the realization, the sudden and harsh memory. Dripping blood, burning, wild _fire_ not in his broken but the other leg, Connor’s mouth, the kiss, the bite.

Bitten.

He’d been bitten.

That was where all that pain was coming from. Apart from the broken bones. Apart from the car crash. That was why it had happened in the first place. That’s why he felt so hot, so panicked, so trapped and sick, why this felt like half dying.

He _was_ dying.

And Connor was still oblivious to it.

Smith simply got moving and gave Connor a little nod, and after a moment of looking at each other questioningly and then scoffing, the soldiers eventually left the room as well once the nurse had performed a final quick check on Daryl. The hunter didn’t even respond to any of it. He just lay there, staring blankly into blurred space as the room seemed to wrap in on itself all around him, his grey, dull, sterile final cell he was going to _die_ in.

There was the soft sound of a door closing. He only snapped out of the blank space  when Connor suddenly and almost immediately got moving, buzzing around. The Irishman turned back around and started to feel Daryl up, tried to check on him and move him.

“Alright, on a scale of one ta ten, how fuckin bad is it?”

_Twenty three._

“…six..?” Daryl retorted, gulping and blinking a bit until he finally came to again. He immediately grunted in pain, squeezed his eyes shut and muffled a yelp when the movement only made it worse. Connor let go of him and bit his lower lip hard, sucking it in and chewing even more on it as he tried to come up with a plan.

“Okay…alright. We can work with this. I haven’t been able ta get t’Murph yet, but I know he’s here and that he’s alive. No surgeries so far. They were busy enough with you. Despite yer stupid car stunt, we can work with this. We infiltrated te place. So far so good. ‘s still the same guy, too, he’s reasonable enough. We managed before. It’s the same basic deal.”

Daryl just looked at Connor, breathing harshly, his chest heaving as he tried to control the panic, the hyperventilation, the inevitable.

“You…jumped outta some window last time” Daryl managed to all but whisper-croak. “..you dumbass.”

Trying to distract himself at least. Keeping Connor on the side of the not knowing.

“Well that nice cast ye got yerself will keep ye afloat even better this time.”

Although he felt nowhere close to laughing, happy, laid back or any other indication that would give him any reason to do it, Daryl still suddenly started laughing. Almost soundlessly, miserably, the pain medication and other drugs he’d been given only amplified the reaction.

“Jesus, how much juice did they pump inta you? Yer high as a kite! Thank god ’m here ta sort this mess out and get ye two hotheads outta here” Connor retorted angrily, checked on Daryl some more, and then suddenly got up to stand on the bed. “Just gotta improvise then, come up with a different plan than what I had in mind before ye went carhoppin. “

He tried to reach the ceiling, exposing his bare slender hips when his shirt moved upwards along with him.

“This Noah kid told me all about this place” he grunted and then managed to gently tap on the tiles there. It sounded hollow. Connor smirked a bit. “Used the space up there ta store his stash and crawl around one night without them knowing. Like Shawshank Redemption? Murph and I did it before. Air vents, I tell ye” he said and observed the ceiling more.

“They got a garbage disposal system by the East corridor” he explained and then got back down from the bed. “They get rid of te bodies and everything else through an elevator shaft. Basement and lobby are wide open. All we gotta do is get down there, steal one of their cars and get the fuck outta here.” He then quickly walked over to the window, observing the outside world, only to look back at the ceiling.

“I can get Murph up there easy, he’ll make his way t’the elevator shaft first, get down and get everything ready. It’s ‘s gonna be tougher with you, but yer tough too, yer gonna manage. As soon as they find out yer not really immune you’re not safe here anymore..if they haven’t found out already…All we gotta do now is figure out how ta get us two  past all te guards.”

Daryl was still chuckling and laughing in the background, through the whole thing, which annoyed Connor, until the sounds suddenly changed. Got huffy, more abrupt, more…choked.

Daryl wasn’t laughing anymore.

He was actually _sobbing_. In a weird kind of way. It was half hyperventilation, half fighting it and trying to control his breathing, half sucking air in abruptly and trying to release it steadily and slow. The hunter was half sitting there, staring down on himself, looking even more pitiable, miserable like that, a battered heap of broken bones and mangled limbs and that silly cervical collar. It wasn’t like he was properly crying. There was no harsh flow of tears. But the sobbing, the hyperventilation, the mild hysteria was still there. _Because he knew he couldn’t come with them._

Connor had never seen the guy like that, and it certainly freaked him out. He wanted to approach him and ask what was wrong but somehow couldn’t, he was that surprised by the sudden change of events. Instead he just stood there, dumbfounded, until Daryl had collected himself enough to be able to speak again.

“I got an idea” he said and then moved, trying to get up with miserable grunts under heavy effort. But it was obvious that he couldn’t move, that even if he was tough enough and really wanted to – he wasn’t going to get out of this bed. After some trying he eventually simply fell back again and stared at the ceiling, swallowing once, until he calmed down again.

“Just go” he then said and Connor finally approached him with a frown.

“What? Don’t be schtupid, I’m not gonna..”  
  
“I said GO!” Daryl exclaimed, although it wasn’t really loud. It just was yet another hoarse croak. “’m gonna rouse ‘em up. Grab their attention. Soon they get over here, you two overwhelm the rest and bolt for it through your stupid vents. ‘m just gonna slow yah down anyway.”

“I’ve never heard that much bullshit in my life!” Connor yelled and actually wanted to punch Daryl for even _suggesting_ that.

He was so offended by the sheer thought of leaving Daryl behind that he actually nearly punched him in his face, but he managed to control himself.

“Don’t be such a fuckin pussy. It’s just a few broken bones and bruises. Ye had worse. And ye got through the worst fer now. They did their magic on you. There’s nothing more they can do about broken bones other than waiting fer them ta fuckin heal, and we sure as hell ain’t gonna wait fer that here. Now stop talkin bullshit and help me come up with a plan that actually makes sense…unbelievable” Connor said, nudging Daryl again, almost playfully, a soothing and peaceful gesture to get him to come to his senses. But instead, the situation escalated even more.

Daryl shoved his arm away violently and as good as he could, glaring at Connor with mad eyes, almost like a wild dog.

“No! Fuck off, I don’t want yah here.”

Connor gave him a stubborn glare and tried to grab him again. But Daryl shoved him. Another grab, another shove. Another grab. Another shove.

“Just…”

“I said fuck off!”

“And I say fuck you with your childish bullshit! We don't have time fer this. Now get...”

“WHY THE HELL DID YOU EVEN LET THEM TAKE YAH, YOU PATHETIC PIECE OF SHIT?!” Daryl finally burst out, suddenly, shooting an insane look at Connor as he began fighting and struggling. "YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!"

“Fuck you! What the fuck was I sappossed ta do?! There’s no way in fuckin hell I’m just gonna leave my best friend behind, so shut the fuck up! I ain’t gonna let ye die. I’m gonna get yer ass out here even if I have ta fuckin drag ye along! We stick t'the plan and we're outta here in no time. Now...”

“I got fucking bit, alright?!” Daryl then blurted out,the anger slowly getting replaced with mild panic and realization.

Connor stopped moving, stopped trying to grab him and just stared at him with wide eyes.

Daryl fought hard, but the suffocating lump in his throat was back just like the intense, red burning in his eyes. He could feel it drumming away at his head, the urge to sob like a fucking baby, finally and really give in, amplified with each heartbeat that pumped the venomous, deadly infection through his body.

“I got bit” he repeated and swallowed hard, just staring at Connor.

“It ain’t gonna matter if your _stupid, **bullshit**_ plan is gonna work. It’s done, alright. Now go. Don’t want yah her no more.”

“No” Connor eventually managed to answer.

The sheer magnitude of it all was already starting to take shape in the expression on his face. A dangerous, fragile façade that was about to collapse. Daryl tried to look away, tried to stay firm, hardened and cold to make Connor believe that he didn’t fucking care about him anymore, wanted him to believe that he was mad at him because he considered all of this his fault, wanted to get him to leave this way, but his façade and attempt was equally fragile and useless.

“Don’t waste the little time I got left and take your fuckin chances. I got it” he said.

Connor still wasn’t saying anything, was just staring at him like _that_.

“I SAID FUCK OFF!” Daryl then yelled, shoving Connor again, but his voice finally broke and the mad tears started falling.

And Connor _finally_ lost it, too. Only that he was _angry_.

“YOU’RE NOT FUCKIN BIT! I SAID STOP TALKING BULLSHIT!” he yelled right back, actually slapping Daryl this time, hard, right across his face. Daryl sobbed once and instinctively hid his face, trying to get away from the judging and blaming slap, but it was useless. A moment later, Connor moved and started yanking at Daryl’s blanket, grabbing his arms and turning them, yanking his shirt up and trying to claw the cast on his right leg away until Daryl shoved his left leg up and kneed Connor in his kidney , harshly punching him back right in his face, too, to force him to stumble back and away from the bed. This gave Daryl enough time to shakily and angrily fumble about with the bandage on his lower left leg, until it got lose and slid down and revealed the deep and ugly scratches and cuts, the blood poisoning, the raging infection.

“THERE, YOU FUCKIN HAPPY NOW?!”

It was obvious that his self-inflicted wounds had done the deed. Those doctors had obviously believed them to be scrapes from the car crash. They had cleaned them some and wrapped them all up nicely, but there was no fighting this infection. Because of the lack of treatment, because of the lack of a proper healing method and cure, they’d given it sweet time to spread everywhere, in every single direction. Spreading the virus. Causing the fever. Getting him closer and closer to becoming a walker.

Connor stared at the injuries, the blackened veins and angry bleeding and suppurating wounds, knew the sight of it all too well after two bites. Even if there were other scrapes and cuts from the crash somewhat concealing them, he knew what the infection looked like. He knew how it worked and what it was doing.

Daryl Dixon.  
His best friend.  
His lover.  
One of the only two people in the fucking world who mattered to him.  
Unmistakably bitten.

Only that he _wasn’t_ immune.

“No” he said yet again  because this  _couldn't_ be true, just staring at the wound while Daryl once again tried to calm himself. Shakily breathing in and out. In and out.

“When?” Connor asked after a while.

“Don’t matter, just…” Daryl growled, shrugging shakily.

“Fucking when?!” Connor spat and turned his head to stare at Daryl. The latter stared right back, swallowing hard, barely keeping it together.

“Back at the overpass” he eventually managed to say.

And it all made sense.

Daryl’s weird behavior. Why it had taken him so long to catch up to him. His friend had been bit while he’d been busy chasing the _fucking_ kid.

“Just go, alright. What happened, happened. Ain’t gonna change shit now and…”

Connor suddenly shifted forward and buried his face in both his hands, moving them up slowly until he managed to grasp his dirty blonde strands of hair, managed to move them between his fingers and pull. He leaned forward more and more, half curled up over Daryl’s bed until he suddenly moved _again_ , fast as lightening, punching the mattress hard with his fist and a half-choked, incredibly angry and _devastated_ “-the _fuck_ …!”

“Look, it ain’t your fault, alright? I swear to your fuckin god, if yah lose your shit again now, I’ll beat your ass into the ground. It don’t matter, y’found your bro, so who fuckin cares, it ain’t none of your concern. It’s my problem, so just fuck off alright?....Just go” Daryl immediately tried to lessen the impact of the information, but he’d already screwed up anyway. He even tried to grasp Connor’s tattooed hand, tried to grab him by his messy strands of blonde hair, too, to establish some sort of soothing contact that let him know that he was _fine_ , more or less, but it didn’t work.

Connor wouldn’t even let him touch him. Instead he moved out of his reach, got up with his back turned on Daryl. He just stood there for a moment, completely still. The hunter was just about to finally give in, to let everything out, to tell the guy how fucking _much_ he loved him, how _grateful_ he was that he’d been his friend, that he’d been allowed to be part of his life and spent an _entire year_ with him, how he was fucking happy for him that he’d found Murphy after the kidnapping, how he wouldn’t change shit for the world, how he didn’t want him to see him like that when it happened, that he  _wanted_ them to get out, that this was a dignified goodbye.

But it never got to that. Instead, Connor finally got out of his rigor, moved to the side, grabbed the chair next to the bed and threw it half way across the room with an incredibly loud and angry yell, losing it. The noise was deafening. The scattering of furniture, the yell, the rage that seemed to penetrate the air.

Not just Connor’s eyes were fire-y red. His face was too.

Daryl had never seen his friend like that either, so beside himself, filled with that much rage and sheer _heartbreak_.

He wanted to say that he was sorry, wanted to yell and shout at the world, too, because it was so _unfair_ , because it was so fucked up, because he felt like he’d betrayed Connor, too, after  _everything_ , but their private moment was already getting interrupted. Too soon, too inconsiderate. He couldn’t say anything, couldn’t even say goodbye because they were already all over Connor after the thing with the chair, trying to restrain him, stop his complete breakdown and terrifying mixture of unstoppable anger and grief.

In fact, Connor was taking it a whole lot worse than Daryl could’ve imagined.

He remembered his own outburst and turmoil of emotions and anger and heartbreak he’d gone through when Connor had told him about his first bite back in the day, in those godforsaken woods in the middle of the night. He remembered his own breakdown back at the golf club when he’d raged at the world and Murphy when he’d thought that he’d seen his best friend dead in Woodbury.

But this was nothing compared to what Connor was capable of.

He’d really thought that the Irishman would only ever lose it like that over Murphy. The way he’d done it back on the farm. He’d thought that maybe there would be a few tears, a few punches, some arguing but then accepting it. Maybe he’d even pictured and imagined a sillier outcome, given their new relationship. The real goodbyes. A proper fucking ‘ _I love you, thank you, you changed my life_ ’ and all of that silly talk that always happened in the movies.

This however, was ugly. Ugly and raw and messy and fucked up and paralyzingly terrifying.

He didn’t get to say goodbye, really wondered if he was going to ever see Connor after all when they dragged him out, stabbed a syringe into his thigh, but not before he had managed to brutally beat two of their soldiers in the face, obviously eager to blow off steam, to try to get rid of the emotions and information _someway_ because they were so poisonous, so unbearable.

The door was slammed shut and Daryl was left to his own breakdown, the stifled messy sobs that he was trying to suppress, the panicked breathing and suffocating need to be with his friend. For a short moment, the prospect of dying alone in here, forgotten and unsuspected, seemed terrifyingly real. He didn’t want it to be that way. Not without a goodbye. Not with the last word spoken. But at the same time, he really hoped that if it had to happen, his death, his turning alone and unguarded in this godforsaken room was going to help Connor and Murphy escape from here before it was too late for them, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Alright, on a scale of one ta ten, how fuckin bad is it?”
> 
> Twenty three.
> 
> “…six..?” Daryl retorted.
> 
> Just wanted to say that this is my favourite passage. I had much fun writing that part xD


	11. Wildfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hellooo! I'm back with the final three chapters of this fic, and the entire series for that matter. I took the time I needed to try and get these chapters right. I wanted to do the series justice. This is why I took me another month to update. I'm going to say a few words at the very end of the last chapter. So for now, enjoy reading the last three chapters!

“LET GO OF ME! LET GO OF ME AND TAKE ME TO WHOEVER IS IN FUCKIN CHARGE HERE!“ Connor yelled as he struggled and fought like a madman, still beside himself after the terrible revelation. His best friend was fucking _dying_ back in that room there. Daryl was dying, time was running out, and he was once again getting dragged around like a puppet, wasting _even more time_.

He knew that maybe it would do him some good to actually stop fighting, to get them to listen to him and be more reasonable with his pleads, just like he always did when he was trying to resolve a situation. But then again, _how_ in god’s name could he possibly stay calm after this bomb had been dropped on him?

He’d felt like this before, more than once by now, although this time, it was way too intense. He felt the terrifying and incredibly _real_ insanity creep up on him, felt his mind slipping harshly. Going insane felt nowhere near liberating or right, it was absolutely horrifying. The way his thoughts were spinning faster and faster, just like the beating of his heart in his chest that rose with every wave of panic under his nervous breakdown.

 _He got bit. Bit. Bit. He’s fucking dying dying dying right now, tick, tick, tock, the clock is fucking ticking, man,_ it said with each pounding in his veins. It was suffocating, an atomic bomb of emotions in his chest and mind, and he really didn’t know where to put anything. His thoughts, his limbs, his body, the impending insanity was absolutely crushing him. So it was no wonder that he simply _couldn’t_ calm down and get them to listen to him this way, instead, he only struggled and fought even more.

It wasn’t even about fighting _them_ (although he had every reason to now that there were almost four guys trying to subdue him in his fit), he was fighting everything. His thoughts, his own collapsing system, the information, the unbeatable certainty.

_And he was still wasting fucking time with his stupid fit._

They had nearly managed to wrestle him to the ground right in the middle of the hallway when Connor managed to grab one of the guys’ guns. Then followed the harsh elbow into someone’s rips, the yell, the knockback of his head against another one’s face. He managed to turn on his back, on the ground, to glare right up at them with wide insane eyes and a red face, the collar of his shirt half torn apart and hanging low off his right shoulder. He pointed the gun right up at them at first, and then at his own head with the deadly klick of the removed safety.

“You listen to me right fuckin now! You get that fuckin Smith guy right here or I’ll blow my fuckin brains out and you’re never gonna get your fucking cure!” he yelled and the soldiers immediately got back to trying to twist the gun out of his hands to subdue him, but he changed the angle of it only ever so slightly and _actually_ pulled the trigger, inflicting a volitional grazing shot to his left temple.

The blood immediately started flowing and his eardrum seemed to implode from the noise of the gunshot so close to his ear, rendering him almost deaf on his left side, deaf and confused and his mind spinning, but he stuck to the threat nevertheless, kept glaring at them as he still held the gun in a steady hand.

“Don’t fuckin try me” he snarled, looking even more crazed, making his chance of winning a fight against four or more trained soldiers surprisingly likely.

He knew it was absolutely insane and that he’d had a pretty big fucking chance of actually shooting himself in the head just a minute ago, but despite the craziness, he had trusted his gut instincts and precision to really pull it through, and the insanity had certainly helped right there. In fact, the pain that shot through his temple, right next to the steady blood flow from the wound and the smell of hot metal, really was some sort of momentary and sick stress relief.

He certainly had their attention now, got them to notice the severity and urgency of the situation, his request. He could see in their wide eyes and pale faces that just for a moment, they’d thought he’d actually pulled it through, or that they were the reason that he had died in a accident due one of _their_ guns going off in the chaos. But no such thing had happened.

More soldiers and policemen were coming, but along with them _they_ were finally coming, too. The group of white overalls and green panted nurses, along with the guy he really needed to see, right up front.

“What on earth is going on here?”

Connor barely made the question out underneath the sharp ringing in his ears and all the talking and arguing around him, but he didn’t even listen to anything. Instead he got up, now that his sub doers were preoccupied. He immediately stumbled back on his feet, moved forward and then grabbed Smith by his overall the moment he spotted the man. He yanked him up with bloodied hands, as if he were made of thin air, and pressed the gun to the Professor’s temple, mad eyes fluttering under the blood flow that momentarily blinded him on his left eye.

“Where’s that fucking cure of yers, huh?! You motherfucker, you better get in there quick and fucking..!”

A harsh blow to the back of his head ended his crazed stunt and knocked him out cold before he even got to finish the threat, harm Smith or anyone even more than himself. Connor dropped the gun and his startled victim and lost his consciousness before he even hit the ground.

The urgency was nowhere gone the moment he finally managed to open his eyes again. He knew he was sedated and restrained, that wasn’t really a big surprise - considering what had happened. His heart was still pounding heavily and he felt sick, dizzy and straight out _done for_ , but whatever had been pumped inside of him, it made the whole ordeal somewhat tolerable at least.

Connor took two or three very long and deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down and focus as he properly woke up again, but it was incredibly hard to keep it together. Almost too hard in fact, now that the crippling fear and lack of information was creeping up on him.

He had no idea how long he’d been out. That was the harsh downside of the stunt he’d pulled to try and get their attention. Now that he thought about it, now that the drugs eased the insanity and nervous breakdown, he became more and more aware of how _stupid_ and counterproductive the whole thing had been.

He could feel it come closer and closer, the question, the wondering, almost like it was slowly sitting down on his hospital bed, creeping up on him, climbing up his body until they were face to face, eye to eye, until it was inside his brain, slowly nagging on him, tearing him apart.

_What if Daryl is already dead._

What if he had been knocked out for a whole day, after the blow to his head, after all their drugs and whatever else they had done to him while he’d been unconscious. What if…he’d just been lying here in this bed, knocked out cold because he’d been so fucking stupid and foolishly emotional, logged into crazy town, while his best friend had been fried by an unbearable fever, choking on his own blood, died, reanimated, and then been stabbed or shot in the head.

Breathing in and out, in and out, his breath started shaking and trembling, hot, painful and angry tears shot to his eyes as he struggled harder and harder, fists clenching. He couldn’t even get rid of that shit, the tears, the emotions. There it was again. Crazy town, a fit of rage and spinning thoughts creeping up on him. Holy shit was he _losing his mind_ over this. His fists clenched even more.

Now that he thought about it, he honestly didn’t even know if he’d been _that_ crazy after what had happened with Murphy in Boston. Probably not. Because back then, thankfully, fucking _thankfully_ the harsh, month long and bone-deep shock had taken hold of him. Protected him from too much harm right then and there, during the most painful first couple of seconds, minutes, hours, days.

The shock had been entirely missing this time, rage and insanity had taken over right away. That was probably the reason why he was managing this whole thing so poorly this time.

Murphy.

Thinking about Murphy felt somewhat good, like medicine. Right. He had Murphy, too. Murphy was here, too. There was no fucking reason to fully give up yet, give in to any consequences just yet. They were telepathic or whatever was going on between them. Murphy knew something was wrong. Murphy had certainly felt it and got things in motion the moment Daryl had told Connor about the bite. Murphy _had_ to have tried something by now, done something by now. All he needed to do now was get his shit back together, too, collect the bits and pieces he had left of his ‘normal’ self and do what he always did. Come up with a plan. Fucking _reason_ , just… _something_.

He hit the mattress of the bed once, _hard_ , immediately trying to free himself from the restraints. Maybe the drugs were clouding his mind just enough to suppress the craziness and shock to keep his calmer, rational self up top and afloat. At least long enough until he’d done enough to save _both_ Daryl and Murphy in time. He started pulling and pulling, hoping to maybe break his already fragile wrist and hand again in order to get out.

“Oh, you’re awake. Please calm down and do not put up a fight again. There’s no need to get violent” it came from somewhere to his right. The Irishman stilled.

“I take it you wanted to talk to me about the cure?”

It was Smith.

Connor scoffed once, almost started laughing as he closed his eyes and exhaled once. Of course it was him. For just a moment he wanted to either cheer Hallelujah or start weeping because no matter how shitty he’d been at getting the guy to him, he’d still done it after all. Just like always. His plans were shitty and stupid and dangerous and fucked up, but they still worked. He kept his eyes closed and took another deep breath, embracing the sedatives in his system, until he eventually turned his head to look at the man.

He hadn’t changed too much since last time, which actually surprised Connor a little bit. He’d thought that after him and Murphy running out on them and screwing up all their plans for a cure, the guy would’ve taken a turn for the worse. Looked more fucked up and depressed, got more twisted and less out for the greater good, research and mercy and humanity and all that shit, but now that he saw him again, Connor actually had to acknowledge that Smith hadn’t changed too much after all. At least from what he could tell. There was still some sort of patience, kindness, wisdom and mercy in the man’s eyes, although he certainly looked a lot more worn out, less hopeful, and slightly haunted from whatever had happened in Augusta after he and Daryl had left.

Connor was relieved that the guy was who he was, because he knew that if Smith really were a coldblooded creepy and merciless scientist out to kill and take whatever he needed to get a cure, he and Murphy and Daryl would be dead by now, probably resting as conserved and canned organs and brains and blood phials in some lab. And yet, here they were. Smith was here and he and Murphy were still alive and he was certainly not missing his brain yet.

And realization was slowly dawning on him.

Connor kept looking at Smith, looking him deep in his eyes to read the man, get a hold of him, weigh his options. Smith looked back at him, obviously wary and maybe even with some hurt pride, ego and bitterness, but deep down the curiosity, wonder and hope was still there. On a deep level, Connor knew that he was a good man, that there was a chance. He knew that he could ask _this_ man to help Daryl and actually see a possible positive outcome of his plan if only he _tried_.

Smith looked at him a bit longer, then eventually and reluctantly got moving to approach Connor, to check his vital signs and blood pressure and heartrate and the superficial but burning wound to his temple.

“Look, I already told your brother. I know it wasn’t exactly ideal to take you both away from your group without your consent and I know that this is extremely uncomfortable for you, but all of this…was necessary. However, your gunshot was _not_. And just as I told your brother I am going to tell you once again as well: We are _not_ out to kill you. So for the love of god, please _stop_ fighting us or hurting others and yourself over this. Your life is of incredible value and we will try everything we can to make this as comfortable and risk-free as we can for you, but this cure…is very much needed and frankly, more important than your will. You’re not exactly making it any easier for me to keep the armed forces from wanting to kill you just for the sake of it” Smith rambled while he checked on the Irishman, still a bit twitchy and weary, but Connor wouldn’t put up a fight or lose it at all. Instead he was busier staring at the working clock on the wall, calculating.

About 20 minutes. He’d only been out for about half an hour. Last time he’d looked at a clock had been in Daryl’s room when he’d tried to find an exit. If the clock in here worked, then only about 20 minutes had passed.

 _Thank fucking god_.

“How long was I out?” he still asked, just to make sure.

Smith scoffed and looked at him, obviously surprised and puzzled over how Connor wouldn’t put up a fight, seemed preoccupied in fact. Smith looked at the clock, too and frowned a little bit, obviously wondering if this was a trick or if he was missing something and the Irishman had a secret escape plan going where time mattered, but he still decided to play along and answered the question.

“About half an hour. It should surprise me given the amount of sedatives we gave you, but then again, after the show you put up with all these soldiers, I’m not really surprised you woke up so soon. No matter how much I don’t like that, you’re _quite_ the fighter. Maybe that’s the reason why you survived two bites after all.”

Connor shifted the moment he heard the word “bite”. He tried to sit up and grab Smith by his arm but of course couldn’t. But the urgency his whole body sent out in thick waves was trigger enough to make Smith move and look up at him.

“Listen, doc, I really gotta talk ta you, it’s urgent. Bite’s exactly the fucking reason why I…”

He closed his eyes for a short moment, fighting hard not to lose his shit again now, not when this was so important. But the thought of Daryl _really_ having been bit and being infected and dying _right_ now was nearly enough to send him over the edge again.

“Have you been bit again? Oh my god, is this the reason why you volunteered and came….”

“No” Connor snapped sharply and finally looked at Smith again, coming somewhat back to his senses.

“Daryl, the guy yer people hit with their car? He’s been bit. He got bit maybe two or three hours ago. It’s not deep, it’s on his lower leg, and it only just started spreading, so please, fer the love of god, tell me ye got something. You had more than half a year ta do shit with Murph’s and my blood, so I need ye ta take yer shit and fucking cure him, okay? Just, take whatever ye gotta and do something.”

“What?” Smith asked in surprise, but before he could say anything more, Connor kept talking once more, losing it more and more all over again.

“Don’t think I won’t manage ta fucking take me brother and get outta here again if ye try ta fuckin finish him off over this infection and try ta pull a stunt over our blood, I swear… you better take this fuckin opportunity ta test yer cure shit with ‘im as yer first subject or I’m gonna…”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this, sooner?! I needed this information the moment you two set foot in here! This is vital…” Smith immediately said and looked towards the door, readying himself to leave immediately, but Connor called out again.

“He only just fucking told me!” he snapped and swallowed hard, fighting both the harsh tears and the anger. “So fucking _please_ tell me ye got something here, man. I don’t give a shit anymore if yer out ta fucking kill me or not over this, just fucking find this cure and help him, alright?”

“I need to check this immediately..” Smith said and tried to leave again, but Connor wouldn’t let him just yet.

“WAIT” he said and Smith stopped _again_ , if only just with an annoyed eyeroll and impatient glare.

“Leave my brother outta this. If ye gotta draw blood, take it from me. Take as much as ye fuckin need, okay? Just hurry and save m’friend.”

Smith just looked back at him for a while, chewed on his lower lip and let the sight of Connor sink in, then he gave an only ever so slight nod and left the room with a hurried “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

He didn’t tell the Irishman how much blood and cerebrospinal fluid he had already taken from his twin brother, or under what circumstances he’d taken those for that matter, simply because he certainly didn’t want to get attacked by a crazed Irishman ever again. He knew that it wouldn’t matter that the samples were the vital pieces to slow the infection of the other man down right now. The mad glistening and reflections in the tied down blonde’s eyes told him enough about how he was going to go rampant over this anyway. So instead of telling the truth about the blood he simply left the room in a hurry, almost ecstatic over how this whole thing was suddenly playing out.

An infected and an immune where in the _same_ building, and although everything was madly implausible and scientifically ridiculous, Smith still got moving to set the final stone in motion.

* * *

 

He’d thought that he’d keep sobbing and crying until he died, but he soon had to realize that the crying and sobbing stopped surprisingly fast. That pain in his chest, the heartbreak and feelings over seeing Connor like this were getting replaced by an other pain instead, faster and faster. Whatever was left of the sobbing and heartbreak, it was shoved away by crippling fear.

The fear of death.

No matter how often he had thought about it, nearly faced it, pictured it. Dying, going down like a man, as a dignified, tough hero. Being here, right now, feeling it, _actually_ going through the process of dying, that was something else entirely. It wasn’t dignified at _all_. It was getting messier and uglier instead, and that was crippling.

He just couldn’t stop sweating, and the fever was slowly becoming excruciating, for many reasons. The heat itself was the obvious one. So hot that he started shivering and freezing under the sweat, while still feeling like he was roasting in an oven. He couldn’t stop thinking about fire. He’d heard and read about how truly painful burning to death was. One of the biker guys from Merle’s gang had died in a fire during a bike crash. He’d heard about it back at the club. How they’d had made fun of his messy squeaking like a dying pig in the flames, the stench, the agonizingly slow burning away of his flesh, the dying from the lack of air from the burned meat.

This certainly felt like burning alive now. Part of his sick, poisoned brain was already starting to trick him into seeing flames eat away at his body where the heat was the worst. In his bitten leg, the other leg, trapped in the cast, the underside of his body that was pressed into the mattress, covered by that terrible and ugly blanket. And on the blanket were clawing undead hands, digging and digging and _digging_ into his flesh, dead eyes, waiting for him to join them. Merle was there, too. Bloodied, undead Merle, the one he’d stabbed and shoved away. Merle was spitting up blood, gargling it even as he came closer and closer, telling him to come home to his family, join them in hell, do them proud, be a Dixon. Daryl wanted to scream but fought the urge, reminding himself that this wasn’t real. Instead, he just closed his eyes and shook his head feverishly, felt the sweat run down his throat.

The cast, all the bandages and broken bones only made it worse. Even if he wanted to change position, get out of bed, run from the flames and hallucinations, walk over to the windows, open them or close the blinds to get some sort of protection from the sun, the heat, the fever – he couldn’t.

The broken bones, the infection, the crippling fear – he was trapped in his own body.

He’d thought he’d be used to the pain. Considering all the scars he had on his back from the beatings. The gunshot wound to his chest, the humiliating continuous rape in his past. This right here, although it had only pretty much just started, was worse already, and that terrified him. Because he knew what was yet to come.

The first time Connor had been bit, the first time he had really seen the full turning, it had taken almost 24 hours to end. He’d been bit during the night, and he’d collapsed the following night after dragging himself around in agony for so many hours.

He’d probably only lasted about 2 or 3 hours now and since he knew that it was only going to get worse and worse and worse, Daryl seriously wondered how the heck he was going to get through all that pain for so long. This was one of the many reasons why he had always wanted to die a freaking hero. Go out with a bang, a huge blast. Maybe a couple of seconds or minutes of crippling pain and that was it, dying to save someone.

 _But like this?_ It was quickly becoming more and more obvious that he _wasn’t_ going to go out with a bang here. He couldn’t even sit up right, let alone get up or walk. If he was going to take some of them out as a surprise walker, it sure as hell was going to take another bunch of hours to get there and, that was the worst part, get there alone. Sooner or later, he was probably going to shit himself and worse if he lost even more control of his body with this raging infection.

Daryl sniffed harshly once more and turned his head to the side, weakly, trying to look at the door instead of Merle, listened up instead, trying to focus. It was quiet outside again. After all the yelling and noise Connor had made, after the gunshot and more yelling, Connor had obviously disappeared, been dragged away somewhere.

He had tried to get out of bed to help him. Oh had he tried. Trying to yell, too, tried to get out of bed and nearly falling out, but it had been completely useless. He certainly was a complete mess. If only that _fucking_ car hadn’t hit him. He could’ve done so much more otherwise.

Maybe his family had been right all along. Maybe he really was a loser and a pussy, a waste of space, maybe this was exactly what he deserved, maybe he was too much like his father and going out the same way, now, too. At least Merle had gone out with a bang. No matter how stupid, brutal and heartbreaking it had been. Merle had died a hero, trying to save them from the governor. He hadn’t gone out crying or begging, or slowly and unspectacularly the way he was going out now. Oh how he wished he could be like Merle.

But the truth was different. He hadn’t been bit trying to save anyone. He had been bit because he’d been stupid enough not to watch out. Just like his stupid, pathetic piece of a shit father. That guy’d been sobbing and begging, too. Not helping anybody. Just like him now. He certainly hadn’t helped Connor with any of this here. Not one bit.

Connor, Connor, Connor, always fucking there, deep in his mind, wormed his way in.

He’d screwed that up, too.

_I mean, was it fun, stumbling right into my life and fuckin me up for weeks? Yeah right, you just come, fuck everyone up, make them like yah, care about yah, only that you can be some selfish fucker and opt out the moment it gets a little fuckin chaotic?_

That’s what he’d told him once. A year ago. Funny that. After all this time, it was the _exact_ opposite. He’d put Connor back together again only to fuck him up and drive him off the edge the moment shit hit the fan.

He loved this man way too much. Even now. That was the problem.

Maybe it would’ve been best if they had never met each other. Maybe this way, everything wouldn’t be _this_ torturous now. Maybe dying alone and unloved and unloving and hardened and depressed and miserable would’ve been easier, more bearable, better after all. Because that way, death would’ve felt like a great solution, salvation even. But not now, not like this. Because that was really the worst part – **_he had been happy_**. This right here, even in a fucked up world like this, felt like actually getting _ripped_ out of life. Just like that. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Whenever he’d seen it in the movies or heard about it somewhere, he’d always just scoffed at the thought of it, never believed it, understood it. Not to be prepared to die and let go _at all_. After all, his life had always been complete and utter shit. Drifting around, just living day by day, he’d grown so indifferent to it. Living or dying. Same thing. Not like he wanted to die or like he was sick of living, it had just… been there, he’d always guessed. Survival instincts and the urge to keep going had always been there of course, that was just natural and human. But he’d always seen death coming one day, been prepared, even more so ever since the end of the world. If it had ever come to it before Connor, he wouldn’t have been that desperate to hold on, to fight, to stay right here. He gladly would’ve died back then and accepted it.

With Connor, that had changed. No more indifference. No more just accepting it and taking it in. _That_ was the reason why it was so horrible now. He _did_ care if he was alive or not. He really wanted to stay alive. More than he ever had in his entire fucked up life.

He turned his head to stare at the ceiling, tears slowly running down his bruised face, but he wasn’t even crying anymore. Apart from the wincing and groaning, he was slowly reaching a different state – half rigor, half surrender.

Maybe the happy part had never been about him being happy. Maybe it had just been part of a greater picture, the one where life pretty much just always fucked him over. Maybe he’d just been given that slice of happiness so that this right here, his slow death, could hurt as much as possible.

No.

That was stupid. Because he knew the _actual_ truth.

The cruelest part was that he was trying to make sense of something where _there was no sense_. There was no sense to _any_ of it. Connor’s precious god and signs and destiny and god’s calling and all that shit did not exist. It was all a cosmic joke, a fluke, a completely random collision of things and what they _made_ of it. Nothing more. That was the principle he’d always lived by. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Make the best of it.

Connor wasn’t to blame. God wasn’t to blame. Destiny wasn’t to blame, just like his father or past wasn’t to blame. Anyone could’ve been bitten there, given the right time and right circumstances. Nothing was out there to screw him or his happiness over, and that just made it worse.

He had met Connor by accident, by chance, completely at random. And now he was leaving him again, by accident, by chance, randomly, just like then. In the end, he could call it even, somewhat just, and yet, it was so _unfair_.

He closed his eyes for a moment, gritted his teeth, took a deep shaky breath as another wave of pain and crippling depression rushed through his body.

See. All this right here was exactly the reason why he had never wanted to die like this. He had way too much time to think about the most nonsensical _bullshit_. He wasn’t good at thinking, never had been. All he had ever wanted was to stop falling into that deep pit of shit in his thoughts all the time, the gloominess and anger that had always made his life about twice as miserable. Given the circumstances, he knew that he had every right to be moody, to be angry and depressed. After all, he was _dying_.

He gritted his teeth more and more and finally snapped his eyes back open.

He was so sick of this shit.

The deal was that he wanted to be alive. But couldn’t. He couldn’t fight to stay alive, but in the end, he could still _fight,_ even without purpose, so that’s what he did.

Daryl shifted ever so slowly, felt the pain ripple through his body, getting worse and worse the more he moved, but for some reason, despite the agony, it gave him a sick sense of justice. He’d never had such crippling stomach pains, never had _so_ many bruises and broken bones but it felt right, like a final test.

He felt like he needed the pain to prove himself. Moving more and more, he managed to sit up as ragged sounds escaped his mouth under the pressure and strain. Fighting the tubes and straps that kept him in place, he moved at a snail’s pace to sit up and try to get out of bed.

He knew it was incredibly stupid. Worthless even.

But he just didn’t want to go down without a fight. He _needed_ to give all this shit _some_ sense, some purpose. Maybe he even needed to get to Connor one last time. Daryl moved and shifted, fighting the medical equipment with slow, fragile and shaky hands.

“ _You make me sick, you little piece of shit.”_

He turned his head in surprise, almost in sheer panic, the moment he heard that voice. Here he was RIGHT next to him. Disemboweled, stinking, hunting rifle still in his rotting, frantically shaking hand. Will Dixon, his father, looked even more intimidating, dangerous and sickening as a hallucination of his disemboweled corpse, the way his youngest son had last seen him on the day he had died. Daryl flinched and tried to move away, but the iron grip of his old man was already there, the _sickening_ grip of his hand on his lower leg that he still knew all too well. Grasping, _squeezing_ hard, causing him immense pain to the bite, and then only creeping up higher, which made the hunter gag in disgust.

“Cocksuckin, _pathetic_ piece’a shit. Just lockatcha, you’re a _disgrace_ t’our whole family. Sitting there like the pussy you are, crying yappin about love, fuckin another guy, you pansy-assed queer piece of trash, you make me _sick_ ” the old man ranted, hand still squeezing higher and higher, creeping up the leg, hurting, scratching, burning. Spitting right in his son’s face. Daryl squeezed his eyes shut and felt the spit run down his already sweat-drenched face and shirt. “Don’t think yah ever gon’ change shit ‘bout the fact that yah ain’t never got it in you.”

Then there was the punch, right in his guts, only adding up to the stomach pains and tripling them, actually rendering Daryl completely breathless and nearly unconscious with pain. At least, this was a pain and experience he was used to. He tenderly and shakily got rid of the hallucinated spit on his face and started to move, shift, slowly and awkwardly sitting up again. The noises that escaped his mouth didn’t even sound human, they were muffled, half-gargled and creaking from the pain and agony he was in, but he kept going under his wheezing breath.

“Ain’t even no reason anyone should put yahh outta your misery like a dog, y’ain’t worth it. You ain’t even worth _shit_ I tell you. You got it comin, princess, you got it comin. And I swear, ‘s soon as I getcha, yah….”

Daryl kept moving. Slow but steady, fighting the pain, towards the edge of the bed, focused on trying to get out, to keep going, to do something. Will kept rambling and insulting and abusing him, kept punching him in places with the raging infection to intensify the pain, until Daryl had enough strength to get it together and be done with it once and for all.

“FUCK. YOU.” he roared, _finally_ able to stand up to the man as he gathered all his strength to punch his father in the face as hard as he could in order to end this. Simply because he was no longer afraid of him, wanted him to just shut up because he didn’t know jackshit. The ‘ _ending it all_ ’ punch never happened though because Will was just a hallucination after all. So instead, the hunter accidentally flung himself at thin air and fell right out of bed, ripping everything out of its sockets and along with him – down, to the harsh and cold ground.

He actually screamed, completely unintentionally, but there was no way he could ever keep it in because the pain was _so_ bad. He heard something crack the moment he hit the floor. The pain was even worse than the gutshot he’d once received. He actually saw stars, heard a scary and sickening ringing in his ear, noticed how his eyes momentarily did all sorts of freaky things and made the light too bright and too dark as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

The world exploded with pain and although he sobbed and screamed once, made the most inhuman and pitiable sounds, he kept going. Trying to drag his body across the floor, crawling across the floor at a snail’s pace and a weird angle, although he already knew that he was never going to reach that door.

The pain was the worst he’d ever experienced and yet it felt good to be moving, to _try_ , to do one last stupid and purposeless act of _something_ in his life, because that’s how he wanted to go out. Trying. Getting somewhere.

He’d only managed to crawl about one fifth of the distance he needed to get to the door when it opened, revealing a police woman, Smith, another doctor and two nurses. Although he did want to snarl something at them, fight them, not a single word other than a crippled croak would come out of his mouth. He weakly tried to turn on his back and other side to get away from them and actually moved a hand in their direction to shove them away, but it was completely useless.

Instead, they grabbed the arm to get it in a position to hold it still…and draw blood. Another set of hands was on his leg in the meantime, the one without the cast, to yank the bandages and clothing away. It took his feverish, hallucinating and sick mind a moment to draw the connection, to understand, but when he did, things were already in motion.

He knew what this was about.

Connor had told them.

The stupid _fucking_ idiot had told them. Everything was a blur of motion and movement and them carrying him around, throwing him on a different bed and moving him out of the room, but even in motion, he could still feel them all over him. Poking the wound on his leg, cutting at the infected flesh, pricking him with needles and pumping stuff into him.

“Fuck off…!!! Getcha…mitts off me…!!!” he responded weakly, over and over again, trying to fight all the hands, the prodding and the ugly lights that blinded him, but to no avail. The fever and dizziness made it almost impossible to focus, but he did make out bits and pieces of information about samples, about blood, about prototypes and testing and infections.

He knew what this was about, knew what they were doing, and he absolutely _hated_ Connor for it.

* * *

 

Connor abruptly moved his head to the side the moment the door to his room was opened again. There were some blood droplets on Smith’s overall and that scared the shit out of him, and the sweaty, hardened look on the man’s face wasn’t exactly helping either. Connor tried to sit up, the restraints clacking on the metal of the bed that kept him in place, but he still tried.

“How’s he, did ye give ‘im something?” he asked, incredible worry very obvious in his voice.

Smith looked at Connor, looked at him with a _strange_ look on his face for a very long time, and just for a second, the Irishman’s stomach dropped and he thought the worst. The hair on his arms stood up as if his body was getting ready for yet another mental freakout, but luckily, that sort of reaction wasn’t needed yet.

“We managed to somewhat stabilize your friend…”

Connor breathed out deeply and loudly.

“Oh thank fuckin god, man.”

“…but the infection is still spreading. Much faster than I thought.”

Silence. For a moment, Connor just sat and stared, incapable of deciding how to react to the news. His face turning pale was the only thing that allowed Smith to somewhat read him, although even he didn’t need a reaction from Connor to know what he thought.

“The injuries he sustained during the accident make it almost impossible for his immune system to fight the infection. There’s simply too much going on in his body. It already started breaking down under the workload by the time we got to him.”

Still just sitting there, still simply staring.

“There’s some internal bleeding that causes tremendous inflammations, given the additional infection and aggressive pathogen. The growth rate is still rising exponentially. It’s already starting to spread towards the brain and adrenal glands. We actually managed to slow that down with the prototype and samples we had but….well, there’s a reason they called it _Wildfire_.”

Connor’s fists were slowly clenching. His jawline hardened. His eyes changed. A strange vibe seemed to radiate from him, and it was obvious that he barely managed to keep it together.

“Take more blood” he eventually said, turning his arm around to give better access. The left arm, the one with the tattoos, the one with the prominent scar of a _healed_ bite wound. Smith swallowed.

“You don’t understand….”

“I said take more fucking blood” Connor growled, sounding venomous and deadly. Right now, he was actually glad that the restraints were keeping him in place. Otherwise he was pretty sure he was going to snap and _kill_ Smith, although he knew that the man wasn’t evil, that it wasn’t even his fault.

Exactly because of his behavior, this terrifying look on Connor’s face, Smith wouldn’t move an inch. The soldiers who were keeping an eye on the Irishman visibly shifted in the back and inched their hands closer towards their guns. Connor sat there and glared at Smith without blinking, waiting, ready to snap and bash his face in and break each and every one of his fingers as punishment for wasting that much time here, but instead, he forced himself to keep it in, talk instead, get rid of the madness this way.

“Take te fuckin blood, and stop trying ta tell me that I’m immune and it’s _completely fuckin worthless_. You dragged me here. You looked fer me fer months t’get this fucking cure. NOW ACTUALLY FUCKING GET IT.”

“I’m not saying it’s worthless. Not at all. It’s…”  
  
Smith visibly hesitated. Making it obvious that he was keeping something from him. Connor’s eyes narrowed slightly, ever so sharp and deadly intelligent as he picked right up on it.

“What. You better fuckin spill the beans right now or I swear not even these restraints or soldiers will be enough ta keep me from _getting_ it outta you.”

The Irishman was very obviously and blatantly done playing. His former reasonable and almost charming side, the understanding part of him that knew how important he was and what all of this right here meant, the _human_ side of him, that was completely gone and he was no longer masking or faking anything expertly. None of the people in the room even really knew him or how he was on a day to day basis, but even they could tell that _this_ right here was him in his truest most unfiltered form. Everybody in the room knew that he wasn’t lying. If things didn’t go his way, at least one person in this room was going to die and get killed by him over this, and that _brutally_.

This was exactly the reason why Smith was so hesitant to keep talking, but at the same time, it was also the reason why he pulled it through. He knew that even if he told the Irishman the _actual_ truth it wouldn’t matter to him, he was going to let him do it, and that was reason enough for him to keep going. No matter what was going to happen, one person in this room was probably going to die _for sure_ , some way or another, and that was Connor MacManus.

The professor knew he had many possibilities to let things play out right here. He could give this man his life, let him be the way he was, not do the surgery. He knew what that still meant. Practical imprisonment for those two Irishmen, and the knowledge that he had _let_ an innocent man die, as a _scientist and MD_ , to keep this curiosity, this gift from nature alive with the immunity. He’d seen how much this man cared about the other that was infected and dying, so that meant practical death for the Irishman anyway, even without the intervention. Especially since he was already at the brink of suffering from a complete psychotic break anyway.

Smith’s _actual_ truth, his reason behind why he wanted to do the surgery, both made him feel excited and proud but at the same time incredibly ashamed of himself. He was going to perform an incredibly risky surgery on one of the only two cases of immunity they knew about and had right here, in order to study an unknown pathogen and get material that might or might not exist in order to maybe or maybe not find something that could make the dead die or keep people alive for much longer. He was certainly going to try to test it on Daryl Dixon, simply because he was such a rare and important opportunity with his ongoing infection. But he knew that there was little to _no_ chance they were going to find something they could actually work with to help him in time. No matter what, he wasn’t going to perform that surgery in order to save that man. It wasn’t about him at all in fact.

The actual truth was all about _the cure_. All about their research, all about himself. That was the part he was ashamed of. There was no humanity in this, from these two men’s point of view. Back in the day, there had been a reason why human testing and experimentation had been forbidden after all. The surgery itself would very likely be fatal. Not just because they still lacked some equipment and an excellent neurosurgeon, but also because it was brain stem surgery after all. He didn’t know how much tissue they needed. Just one wrong cut, one wrong move, or too much hemorrhaging and the Irishman would be gone. Lose important vital cardiac and respiratory functions, his nervous system, ability to eat, sleep, be human, conscious, alive.

There was a _chance_ that the Irishman was going to survive this given his extraordinary brain, pathogen and immune system, but _zero_ chance he was going to come out of it the way he’d been before, the way he was right here. That was some sort of death, too. Daryl Dixon was going to die. And so was Connor MacManus.

The other ‘truth’ the one he was actually going to speak out in a second, was the only one he considered the most ‘humane’ for Connor and that’s why he decided on it, although he knew that it was a big fat lie. They were going to die no matter what. There was no sugar coating it. The only way he could sugarcoat it was to give the Irishman _some_ sort of peace. Although it was a big fat lie. An incredibly fake sense of purpose. Telling him that he was going to die in order to save his friend, although this very likely would not become true.

“There is a way, and I know you’re not going to like it one bit, but it is _a chance_.”

“Go ahead. As long as it doesn’t involve my brother in anyway, you go right fucking ahead.”

Smith looked at Connor, examined his face and tried to read it, hesitating yet again because he really felt _bad_ about this, but he kept going.

“I only just talked to your brother about it. I already told him that we’re close to the final engineering process given all the research we did with your remaining samples during your absence. We already have a prototype in testing, the one we just used on your friend, to stop the primary event – the stage one and two blood poisoning, fever, general infection and it’s working. It is responding. This is great, good news.”

“….but he’s still fuckin dying, so not really. Go on and fucking hurry” Connor said angrily, picking the information right up and understanding everything rather quickly.

“ Just like I told you back in Augusta, we still need the mutated and altered pathogen that is inside your brain. Your first infection triggered and altered the secondary event that reanimated your entire brain after you were clinically dead for a short time. Your secondary event was different from the rest, your reanimation period was extremely short. Not just the brain stem was restarted, your entire brain was, and the pathogen triggered an incredibly high healing rate and shortened recovery time due to your altered immune system. Your mutated form of the pathogen keeps the system from failing during the infection. It literally _kept_ you alive instead of killing you. This is how your brother probably survived the gunshot wound to his head as well. We need this physical makeup, that code, that ‘ability’ to really halt the infection and stop the turning. If we can transfer that and alter the recovery time and self-healing with it, we could help your friend and save him from the turning. With the additional help of your blood and heavy antibiotics of course.”

Connor’s eyes moved a bit left to right, left to right, as if he were reading a book while processing the information, and although he did frown a bit, he seemed to understand.

“So same drill, ye need ta screw around with my brain ta find shit.”

“To put it bluntly.”

“Just mine. Not Murph’s. Just my brain. Ta find shit. So ye can save him.”

“Yes. Not your brother’s. Just like I said. We don’t want our only two cases of immunity dead. His brain is still too fragile and prone to complications and seizures given the injury from the gunshot wound and previous surgery. I do not want to risk that. But you? You are healthy. You are strong. Everything inside your body, all your organs are intact. You’re the best possible candidate we could ever get.”

The two men looked at each other, looked at each other for a very long time, and Connor’s look gradually became even more piercing. Smith really wasn’t sure if the man saw right through him, if he really was _that_ smart, but he still stood his ground and kept looking right back. He felt sorry for lying about his friend, felt sorry for them. He really did. But then again. He also felt sorry for humankind. His son. His people. All those people who had been bitten before or eaten alive because of that disease he was trying to fight. They simply were too close to a solution to make this personal now.

“How long will it take?”

“The surgery itself? That’s hard to tell. Given the unknown….”

“…will he still be fuckin alive by the time ye fuckin find something” Connor interrupted the man almost immediately, and Smith swallowed, looking at the Irishman yet again.

“I sincerely hope so. And we’re going to try anything to keep him alive until we get there. We need him here just as much as you do right now. We need an infected to test the cure after all. We can protract the infection rate and usual time of death by hours, maybe even days, given the prototype we already have with your blood. I am going to be honest with you here, because I think you and I both know that you’re smart enough to figure this out even without a medical degree. There is no way I can tell you how long it is going to take to finish that cure, or how well the prototype we already have works. But I can assure you, we really have something we can work with. I spent months working on all this even without the most important samples. We have better, important and more suitable equipment in this facility than we had in Augusta, there’s 24/7 electricity, lights, a trained surgeon and an entire medical staff left over from the early days of the outbreak. There is _a real chance_.”

There was no answer from Connor for a while as he seemed to think it through, so Smith carefully went on.

“It really may be the only way to help your friend” he tried, and wasn’t exactly surprised to see Connor give him an incredibly annoyed eyeroll.

Of course, the guy _had_ to play that card. Of course Connor saw right through it. Anyone would say that shit right now if they were the ones trying to get what they wanted from him. The sickest part about it all, the part that really made Connor’s stomach twist, was the fact that it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that Smith was playing him. It didn’t matter that he was trying to guilt trip and blackmail him into this, pretty much giving himself up over all this and agreeing to what could _very_ likely become his death sentence. He knew about the risks, too. After all, Smith had already told him in Augusta. And yet it didn’t matter because at the end of the day, Connor knew that there was some truth to it, that there really was no other solution.

Daryl was dying. Daryl was infected and suffering through the same shit he had gone through last year. _Everybody_ died once they were bit. They both had the definite proof that Daryl wasn’t immune after their first visit to Smith in Augusta. Daryl _was_ going to die if they didn’t find something.

He **was** immune. He had something inside of him. A fucking _chance_. No matter how small that was. 10% chance to maybe save his best friend in the world was a whole lot better than an absolute zero.

Connor breathed out harshly, just once, and let his head fall back into his pillow to retreat for a second, to just be alone with himself and his thoughts, staring at the ceiling.

Oh the incredible fucking irony.

He’d run miles away from the very same fucking thing just a few months ago because he had decided that he did NOT want to die, that he wanted to live and screw all of humanity if he could only be with Murphy and Daryl. He’d made all those big speeches about how he wanted nothing to do with a cure to keep Murphy safe, to keep the both of them safe.

And here he was.

He actually started smirking, then grinning, then chuckling.

How very _fucking_ funny and ironic.

He was probably finally going to fucking die.

He’d always thought he was going to die in order to protect Murphy. In a way, he still was, more or less. Because if they did the surgery on him and found something, Murphy wouldn’t be the one to be operated on, had enough time to get away. After a life centered around his brother, after a life of codependency with his twin brother and nearly losing his mind over his fake death, after years of only ever existing for Murphy, as the big brother and his brother’s protector, he was now going to die to save somebody else. The sickest thing about it was that it was a _good_ thing. A healthy thing even.

And it was so ironic because it was _so_ fitting.

After trying to kill himself once, after slipping more and more and wondering if he was slowly going dark side and freaking himself out, he was going to die a death that he thought was rather perfect for him. He could finally be that pretentious hero and ‘saint’, a martyrer, dying for the ‘greater’ good with a cure, saving mankind when he was actually dying for just two men in his life. After shooting his own brother in his head and causing him a lifetime of problems, after a life’s worth of guilt over the shot, he was finally going to share the equal pay for the headshot by getting a screwed brain, too.

Murphy and him had always had similar diseases, caught the same shit, gotten similar scars and injuries, so that was really no surprise after all.

And after a year of Daryl saving his ass so many times, saving his life, putting his life back together, giving him his brother back, giving him a ‘normal’ and healthy life that revolved around more people than Murphy, giving him a nurturing and actually deep relationship, after a year of seeing the guy bust his ass over him trying to keep him from going crazy, he was finally going to repay that debt to Daryl with his sacrifice, too.

No matter how it turned out, it probably would keep him from harsher freakouts in a future he would no longer have, keep him from going on murder sprees, from the possibility that after already killing a woman, he’d one day probably kill innocent people, too, because he was already starting to like it.

_You will burn for this._

That’s what he’d read on the church just a couple of days ago.

This right here, was finally the knock on his door to let him know he should repent. _Really_ repent.

He could repent for everything, repay the guilt, and probably save humanity, Daryl and Murphy on top of it. After that sacrifice, he could truly find peace. Should he survive.

Well _hallelujah indeed_.

Connor laughed as he stared at the ceiling and shook his head, laughing in the face of death, and then finally turned his head to look at Smith again. He calmed down after a moment and then swallowed, feeling strangely calm and comfortable with it all of a sudden.

“Well, ye better fuckin hurry up then, doc.”

Smith blinked once, dumbfounded.

“..excuse me?”

“Even if there’s only a ten per cent chance of saving that redneck, even if it were three..I’m with ye on this. I still don’t understand half the shit yer saying and ye better know what ye fuckin talk about, but aye, I think yer right. It’s probably the only fuckin way. Screw with my brain. Use it. I won’t run this time. As long as ye fuckin hurry and ‘t _saves ‘im_. If ye won’t help him and I die fer nothing, my brother **is** gonna kill you. That’s my insurance. So there’s something.”

The professor still stood and stared, wide eyed, as if he couldn’t believe how _easy_ this had really been, even with the obvious lie that had been detected. He was even more puzzled over how the Irishman was grinning and immediately back to his charming golden persona, as if he were the most friendly person on the planet. Giving him that slightly arrogant smirk even when he knew that he was probably going to die very soon.

“Well go on, fuckin hurry. Get yer shit ready, we don’t have much time!” the Irishman snapped and Smith startled a bit, but then excitedly and hastily got going. “I promise I’ll try everything I can to help your friend. Thank you” he said. Connor could see that the guy was actually shaking a bit, surely with excitement. Despite everything, despite his okay, it was sickening. Here they were again. Monkey lab.

“Hey” the blonde then called after the other man when he was just about to leave. Smith turned around and looked back at him.

“I wanna say goodbye t’them” Connor then said, and Smith eventually scoffed, just a bit.

“We’ve been there last time. Is this some sort of game?”

The look on Connor’s face hardened, got more threatening and serious.

“My best fucking friend didn’t die last time. I don’t know two shits about ye and if ye still got someone that ye love, but I sure as hell do and I wanna see them one last time before I bite the fuckin dust. You owe me that.”

Smith seemed to think about something, maybe even the child Connor remembered from Augusta, and when the Professor wouldn’t answer fast enough, he went on.

“Put your watch dogs right in fronta the fuckin door then. And in case ye don’t know, there’s fuckin asphalt all around the building. So no jumpin outta the window this time either. I won’t run, okay. I swear on me brother’s life. I just wanna say goodbye.”

Smith stood and stared, looked at the windows, actually went over to them to check again, and after a moment of leaning against it with his forehead pressed to the windowpane, he eventually let out a long sigh and shook his head.

“What the hell am I doing” he growled, turned around and walked over to Connor to get rid of his restraints.

“Hey, are you insane?!” one of the soldiers immediately said and walked forward, gun drawn and ready to shoot Connor in case he snapped again. The Irishman just remained still and gave him a raised eyebrow and looked down on him with a scoff. He certainly was flattered that they considered him this dangerous though. The moment his hands were freed he slowly raised them in a soothing and submissive manner.

“Relax fella, this is about saving yer guts, too.”

“It’s alright. Stand back. He’s under our full supervision now. He knows that if he tries anything, we have leverage, too. One radio call and we dispose of his infected friend. He’s a high security risk anyway” Smith said in the meantime.

Connor’s demeanor momentarily changed because he hadn’t expected the threat, although he now figured that he’d been foolish enough to really believe he could outplay all of them. He’d honestly never thought of that, how lucky he was that they hadn’t killed Daryl so far although they very well could’ve. Hours ago. He was on thin ice here, and Smith was way too generous already anyway. Just like Connor had thought and felt, the man was one of the good guys, maybe a bit too good and naïve, but even with all that, he wasn’t stupid. Not this time. Not after what had happened in Augusta.

“Just escort him to his friend. I’m heading over to the ICU level to prepare for surgery.”

“Actually, I would like ta see me brother first. I haven’t seen ‘im in days. I wanna make sure he’s alright. Last time I saw ‘im he got fuckin kidnapped.”

Smith halted and looked at Connor again ,now that the Irishman had sat up and flexed his limbs a bit with the restraints gone. He certainly looked more intimidating, now that he was upright and on his own, so the Professor didn’t seem to want to argue too much anymore, even with the soldiers in the background, who had their guns trained on the Irishman’s legs.

“Sure. Of course you do. Take him to 65-67D then. And bring him right down once he stopped by 65-53. We brought the infected case there.”

 _65-67D 65-53. 65-53_ Connor immediately started repeating in his head over and over again, learning the numbers by heart so he knew where to find Daryl later.

 _“_ Make sure ye fuckin hurry down there” Connor simply said and started walking, knowing that now, the clock was ticking.


	12. Ticking

When Murphy heard that there were people approaching his door he got ready on in instant, trying to gather whatever he could in order to fight. He actually had nothing but his teeth and fingernails, considering that he was still tied to a bed, _but they sure as hell better not freaking underestimate him because of that_ , he thought as he shifted slightly to the left and right. There was no way in hell he was going to let them anywhere close to the back of his neck again after what had happened with the needles and all the other medical nonsense. He worked himself up a little and kept his furious eyes fixed on the door, even considered spitting and other possibilities to really make it hard for them.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to do any of that.

Instead, his face immediately lit up.

“CONNOR” he roared with joy and tried to sit up when he saw his sibling come in, but the restraints kept him in place and close to the bed. He couldn’t greet Connor the way he wanted to but his twin once again made it easy for him, because Connor stormed right towards him and then flung himself at him, hugging him tightly. Murphy breathed in and out harshly, inhaling the scent of Connor’s shirt he had his face shoved into and then quickly moved away a bit to examine him.

“Hey, are ye fuckin alright? I heard something ‘bout a car accident and ICU, Jesus fockin Christ, are ye okay??”

“Yeah, yeah I am…I am, but…”

Connor momentarily let go of him, moved back a bit and looked at Murphy, looked right into his eyes….and suddenly started weeping. Deep down and despite the memory loss, the younger MacManus knew that this was odd, that he had rarely _ever_ seen Connor like that. Crying, really beside himself, a complete mess, so suddenly.

“Hey, hey hey hey, what’s going on? Conn? Stop freakin me out” Murphy said in surprise, immediately preceding to wrap his arms around his brother as soon as one of the soldiers had been gracious enough to get rid of his restraints. For just a split second, Murphy immediately considered punching the guy for the sake of it, to make up for what had happened earlier with the kidnapping and all, but he settled on a simple venomous glare because he had more important things to do. More important things being holding on to his brother, hugging him and holding him together as he completely fell apart.

“’s not me, it’s fuckin Daryl” he heard Connor’s muffled and broken voice against his chest and finally somewhat understood, although it still felt a bit weird. But it really explained some things at least, why it had taken Connor so long to get to him, do something while he’d been stuck here with doctor Frankenstein. Connor muttered something against his chest and seemed to ask things and try to explain things but Murphy didn’t understand jackshit. And even if he did, it wasn’t like he wanted to get straight to talking since there were still these two soldiers in the room with them. But Connor sounded desperate, so he eventually gave in and asked him to repeat what he’d rambled.

The older MacManus looked up with fire-y red eyes, barely holding on. In fact, it didn’t even look like he was trying to stop sobbing. He sniffed harshly and looked right at him.

“He got hit by a fuckin car, man. I saw it. Full frontal. He just….wam. The fuckin thing drove right inta him.”

“What? Shit…” Murphy said, really shocked and worried, but he still felt incredibly annoyed and irritated by the soldiers, which he looked at every couple of seconds.

“How bad is it?”

“Real fuckin bad. Lotsa broken bones, got taken ta the ICU right away but still…Jesus, Murph. He’s so fucked up, I’m so fuckin scared he’s not gonna…” and his voice broke and he lost it all over again, suddenly moving forward and clinging to Murphy for all it was worth. Connor shook against his brother as kept muttering some jibberish, holding on tighter and tighter which nearly strangled the younger MacManus. Murphy craned his neck a bit but then ended up glaring at the soldiers again, until he fixed his furious and impatient eyes on the one who was standing right next to the bed.

“Give’us a fockin minute??” he muttered, still patting his brother’s back while the soldier glared back and just scoffed. Murphy barely managed to keep his anger in.

“Ye get off on this thing??? Ye already kidnapped me, ‘s the end of the world but ye can still have some common fuckin decency! What’re we gonna do? Sob each other ta death? Fuck off!” Murphy spat when they wouldn’t bulge. The soldier to their right really looked like he was just an inch away from punching the younger MacManus hard across his face just for the sake of it. Connor didn’t even register it and spiraled more and more out of control against his chest, which once again really freaked Murphy out.

“Smith said it’s okay. Let’s just wait outside ‘n lock the door. He’s right. Ain’t nowhere they can go this time. I’m sick of this guy” the other soldier by the door said, and Murphy shot him a glare right away. The other soldier didn’t seem to fond of the idea, considering what had happened with Connor before, but then again, it also looked like he was equally fed up with the whole thing. He let out a frustrated, low and angry sigh and then walked over to the windows, checked and locked them, then checked the two cupboards, underneath the chair and bed and the inside of the drawer next to Murphy’s bed, only to finally give in. He still wouldn’t stop glaring at Murphy, who held on to his brother but glared back just as furiously.

The soldier let his gaze wander until it got stuck on Connor’s shaking form. He let out a snort and shook his head as he got going.

“Fuckin queers, I always say…”

“Yeah, yeah…come on now. I can’t hear it anymore, man. It’s pathetic” the other soldier said and moved towards the door as well.

“Yeah. Pathetic. Guy’s a complete nutjob” the other grumpy soldier agreed with an angry growl and looked back once again to shoot another look at Connor and Murphy. The latter considered snapping at the guy and getting into a fight with him, _really_ fighting him to make him shut up and show him who was pathetic. He already clenched his fists in fact, gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes more and more. He could also see that the soldier was slowing down, seemed to anticipate the fight with all his provocation, but after a short moment and a small inhale Murphy forced himself to relax. Not just for Connor, but also because he knew that the fight would get in the way of getting these two jerks out of this room so he could talk to his brother in private.

He knew that they, and hopefully _Connor_ needed the privacy to discuss the escape plan he was sure his brother had by now. So he remained silent, just sat there and stared, until the soldier eventually reached his colleague by the door. The somewhat less aggressive soldier snapped his fingers at Murphy to get his attention.

“Oy. Tell your bro to knock on the door and step back when he’s ready so we can get going. We’re gonna lock the door, so don’t bother trying to play any of your games. There’s no running this time. You got five minutes. Counting” he informed him, but Murphy just gave the guy an angry glare accompanied by his middle finger.

“Sure hope the doc fucks ‘em up baaaad, man” the other soldier snarled angrily and exited the room, followed by his slightly pissed but somewhat still amused colleague who slammed the door shut. The moment the door was closed and the rattle of the lock could be heard, it was like somebody was flipping a switch.

Connor moved abruptly, away from Murphy. He was no longer shaking or crying at all, although his face was red, heated, and tearstained.

“Fuckin finally” he retorted angrily. The determined and hardened look on his face was back in an instant as he sat up properly so he could look at his brother.

“The fuck?” Murphy asked in confusion, still freaked out by Connor, although in an entirely different way now.

“Needed them out” Connor just explained quickly and then grabbed Murphy’s hands to turn his arms around so he could take a look at them, checking them for tiny holes in the skin from possible needles. He wasn’t too surprised to find them, accompanied by some bruises from the restraints and blood sampling itself.

“Are ye okay, Murph? They do any shit ta you since they took ye? Sorry it took us so long.”

“..well…wah…wait, what the fuck Connor? Are _you_ okay? Te fuck’s going on here?”

Connor kept fiddling about with Murphy’s limbs, hair and head to check every inch of his body, getting angrier with every puncture mark he found, _especially_ the bandaid on his sibling’s neck, which he immediately got rid of with a furious “Motherfucker, I knew it!”

Murphy fought Connor’s hands off angrily and glared at him.

“Wouldyah please fuckin tell me what’s going on here, now? Where’s Daryl?”

For a split second, Connor stilled and looked at Murphy, gave him a look that went unnoticed by his sibling simply because it happened so fast. Connor even swallowed a bit because despite the very obvious _show_ he’d just delivered to get rid of the soldiers and make them believe he was a lost cause, it actually _was_ very hard for him. Not just because of the mention of Daryl that reminded him once again that the clock was ticking, but also because everything he was going to say now was partially going to be a lie and he _hated_ lying to Murphy.

But he knew that there was absolutely no other way. Because if he told Murphy the full truth, there was no way he was going to get him to leave and do as he said in order to keep him safe. Connor mentally pinched himself to get the fake grin just the right way.

“’s not as bad as a think. But I take it as a compliment that even you fell fer that shit” he said and let out a little sigh. “He really got hit by a car though and ended up here cos of it, he just broke his thigh and a few other bones. But ye know ‘im. He’s a redneck. Tough as nails. Can still punch me and insult te shit outta me so that says everything.”

Murphy snorted once, but then got more serious again.

“So he’s not gonna die?” he asked, really making sure. Once again, Connor fought _really_ hard not to hesitate or give anything away although he nearly gulped hard because Murphy hit the weak spot. But he managed and turned the gulp into a scoff and eyeroll.

“’ve course not. We’re talkin’ bout Daryl Dixon here, remember.”

Murphy smirked a bit and before he got to ask more questions again or got even sharper senses, Connor kept talking.

“But we still gotta face that he’s fucked up, alright. His left leg’s gonna be completely screwed fer months. They put it in a cast and shit, and he got some superficial internal injuries. He really can’t move on his own, so there’s a change of plans. Ye really gotta listen ta me now, Murph. Carefully” he instructed and Murphy narrowed his eyes a bit, nodding eagerly.

“Alright, then shoot. We gotta get te fuck outta this place, before they….”

“We met this kid who already fled from here because it’s all fucked up. He told me about this elevator shaft. He reached it through the air ducts. Even got a stash of knotted up drapes somewhere up there. It’s at the east corner of this building, so it’s dat way” Connor explained, pointing at the ceiling and then towards the way he was facing, along the windows to the right.

“Air ducts. Seriously” Murphy asked in disbelief, already getting slightly pissed.

“ **We don’t have much time, Murph** ” Connor growled angrily and even grabbed his sibling by his shoulder for a short moment to get him to understand that this was important. “They’re constantly patrolling all hallways, they got at least two guards in front of our doors at all times and plenty people ta beat te shit outta us the moment we as much as look at a fuckin door or window. ‘s not gonna be easy this time so ye better fuckin listen up now, I thought this shit through, okay. It’s a good plan, it’s gonna work, now shut it” Connor whisper-shouted and seemed overly tense and cold, which made Murphy a bit uncomfortable and angry.

“Well how the fuck are we sapposed t’get Daryl through yer fuckin air ducts if he’s got broken legs and shit, huh? This is fuckin stupid and ye obviously _haven’t_ fucken thought through if ye really think…”

“He’s not gonna fuckin come, alright?!!” Connor snapped back and Murphy fell silent, until he eventually only managed a confused and surprised “What?”

“ _Yer_ gonna be the one going through the ducts, so ye better fuckin listen now. Just once in yer life listen and do not talk back, this is too fuckin important.”

Connor then grabbed a crumbled and smudged small piece of paper from somewhere inside his jeans and shoved it into Murphy’s pockets instead.

“I drew some easy directions on here, _don’t fuckin lose it_ , I’m counting on ye here. Ye gotta go through the air ducts and elevator shaft. Climb all the way down, the lower levels are filled with walkers so there’s no guards there. Try ta stick to the walker crowds and stay away from their parking lot. Don’t bother taking one of their cars. They got snipers and guards everywhere round there. Take the main entrance where the walkers are worst and get back t’the city. Hurry and find a car there. Take I85 and I75 south. Shit’s drawn on the paper, should take ye back ta Jackson and the church. It’s important that ye get back t’Rick and the others. We need…”

“Con, are ye fuckin crazy, ‘m not gonna…”

“Let me finish…”

“No, I’m not gonna fucking let ye finish, this is…”  
  
“ ** _I said let me finish_ ”** Connor snarled and suddenly had an almost dangerous look on his face, although Murphy knew that it wasn’t directed at him or that he could ever hurt him. Yet, even with the threatening glare, Murphy stood his ground.

“No! The guy fucking told me, Connor! If somebody’s gotta leave, it’s gotta be you, otherwise it’s just what they fuckin want! They wanna fuck you up, Connor. Really fucking bad. They wanna open ye up and shit ta find a cure.”

There was a short pause as Connor just stared at Murphy, seemed surprised, or so Murphy thought.

“What?” Connor even asked, to keep the act up, and Murphy nodded eagerly, so oblivious to the farce and the fact that Connor already knew, that this was exactly what he was going to do.

“Yeah, he told me all this crap ‘bout how it’s too risky to do this sorta deep intervention on my brain after the headshot, so he wants you instead cos yer head’s fine. It’s just like ye fucking said about Augusta. Whatever ye gotta do, we better…”

“Daryl can’t fuckin come along the way we wanted ta leave, okay? Somebody’s gotta stay here t’keep them from getting rid of him in his condition” Connor said angrily, shifting a bit so he could come across even more firm.

“We _need_ Rick and the others ta help bust him out. We can’t do this on our own. These soldiers are probably gonna follow you again, in fact, that’s what I’m counting on. They’re gonna be as stupid as last time and underestimate us just like they always do, and I want ye and Rick and the others ta overwhelm them, capture them, and then use them fer a fair trade. Them in exchange fer Daryl….and me. But we gotta do this _today_ ye hear me. The sooner, the better. We can’t waste any…”

“Fine, then I’ll stay with Daryl while ye go get the others and…”

“ **I’m not gonna fuckin leave ye here!** ” Connor whisper-yelled and only tightened the grip on Murphy’s shoulder. “Don’t fuckin underestimate me, Murph. In here, ‘m of a lot more fuckin use than ye and ye know it. Yer too emotional ta handle all these fucking soldiers and docs the psychological, nonviolent way ta buy time til Rick ‘n the others get here. I can play people. I can play on time. I can bargain and talk. And if I can’t I kill people before they get what they want. Me’n Daryl are more of a team than the two of ye ever will be. And even without that shit, there’s no way in fuckin hell I’ll leave ye in any real dangerous situation after what happened in Boston. Cos really, you and I know both know they won’t fuckin care ‘bout yer headshot if they’re left no other choice with me gone. It’ll probably only make shit worse, and I’m not gonna risk that if it ever came ta it. There’s just no fuckin way and ye better not ask this of me or I swear…”

“But…”

“ **No.** Ye’ve seen enough of me and heard enough of me in this world now ta know that I’ll lose my shit on my own. Out there, without ye and Daryl, I’m worth shit, okay. I can’t function on my own and te plan will be fucked. You can, and dat’s why yer gonna fuckin do this and get them here as fast as ye can. I fully trust ye on this, brother. Okay? I really do. That’s why I’m asking _you_. ‘ve always known that ye can handle shit on yer own without fucking it up if ye really need to out there, ye probably do it a whole lot better than me. So ye gotta be the one ta get help and pull this plan through while I watch out fer Daryl. I put our lives in yer hands because I trust ye, brother. So fer the love of god, trust me on this, too.”

Murphy really wanted to talk back, really wanted to freak out, slap Connor, yell at him because this was such a stupid idea and plan, because Connor was really selfish here. After all, he felt the same. Didn’t want to lose his brother either, didn’t want him to ask this of him, put him on the line and in danger while he got out. He wanted to tell him to go fuck himself and go get them instead, be a man and get his shit together instead of making it easy by saying that he was going to lose his shit on his own out there with them in here, but then again, after a moment, he couldn’t help but give in.

Because even with all that, Connor somewhat had a point with some of the things he said. And at the same time, with the mention of what had happened in Boston, maybe it really was the right thing to do after all. He knew that Connor needed this, that they both needed this. No matter what had happened, no matter how many things had changed for the better again, Boston would always still be there, between them, the damaged trust, the after effects. Maybe they needed this to finally really put Boston behind themselves. And most importantly: they really needed to trust each other again.

HE needed to learn to fully trust Connor again. Because after all these weeks or months or however long it had been now together, Connor really deserved that trust. This was his chance to give Connor that trust back. To fully and totally believe in his brother and that he would only ever do what he thought was best for him. Connor trusted him. So he was willing to give it back. No matter how _much_ that scared the shit out of him. For Connor’s wellbeing that was at stake, over this stupid thing called trust.

“….okay.”

For a short moment, Connor actually looked surprised.

“…it’s on the paper. Jackson. Church. Rick” Murphy repeated and then looked up. “Air ducts, elevator, lobby, walkers, main entrance, car, south. Got it. Okay….”

“Aye, it’s on the paper” Connor repeated and gave Murphy’s shoulder three gentle massaging squeezes as he started smiling happily.

“Okay..”Murphy repeated once more and moved to get up. “Better fuckin hurry then” he added and then scoffed as he got up. “Fuckin redneck just _had_ ta go and break his fuckin leg though, really…” he complained and Connor scoffed, too, just looking at Murphy, who was still staring up at the ceiling, checking it out.

Since Murphy was momentarily preoccupied with the whole sorting his thoughts and trying to get into action, Connor allowed himself to let his façade slip for just a moment, a dark and sad shadow crossing his eyes, accompanied by an incredibly sorrowful look on his face as he watched his sibling.

He felt incredibly relieved by how he’d gotten Murphy to agree with his plan, persuaded him to leave without him and Daryl. He really felt so incredibly _happy_ knowing that his twin brother was going to get out of here. Get back to their group where others could protect him, keep him safe, keep him company. Back to his new girl and the daughter he’d pretty much adopted already. That was the important thing, really. No matter what, now that he had agreed, Murphy would have way more time. Murphy would still have _someone_. Murphy would be able to keep functioning. Keep going. More than he ever would with their roles reversed.

Because that part really was true. It would always be painful. It would always be heartbreaking and soul disrupting. But no matter what, Murphy would _always_ be better at coping . Looking after himself, going on with him gone. He’d proven that more than enough after Boston. The other way round, not so much. Not at all. Especially not now that Daryl…. Connor swallowed really hard, _actually_ felt the first bunch of tears swell and immediately fought incredibly hard, quickly looking away.

It sucked _so much_ , but there simply was no other way. He couldn’t decide between them, pick just one of them. He needed them both. If he wanted Daryl and left the way Murphy wanted him to, Murphy would have to die for a cure instead in order to save Daryl, and there was just _no_ way. If there really could only be two out of the three of them on this godforsaken planet, then he would _always_ chose himself to die before either of them.

 _If someone has ta_ _die_ _t’find these people a cure, then it’s gonna be me_.

He’d said that only just yesterday. And he meant it. End of discussion.

_You ain’t dying as long as I’m around._

That was the code he and Daryl lived by in their relationship.

Well there he had it. _Now suck it up, you bitch_ , he thought angrily and got a hold of himself again. He put a lid on his emotions and got up, the cold and calculating, determined look now back on his face.

“Alright, we better get this thing rolling then before these fuckers come back in here” he said and got up on the bed to reach the ceiling with the primitive simple metal-like tiles and air vent. He got hold of the pen he had used to write down directions to fiddle about with the tiles for a moment until the vent got loose. He moved slower and gentler now so it wouldn’t make any noise, carefully lifting the vent away, revealing the space between the tiles, air ducts, cables, and proper ceiling. It looked small and dirty and uncomfortable and awkward, but Murphy had done this thing before after all. Connor moved the vent and changed the angle until he grabbed a proper hold of it and then lifted it down, leaving the square hole in the ceiling ready. “See, I told ye there’d always be a shaft” he said with a little smirk.

The exit was now wide open and ready to take his brother in, and yet, Connor’s chest and throat seemed to get smaller and smaller, making it hard to breathe and swallow.

Because _damn_. Who knew if he was ever going to see Murphy again once he disappeared through that hole. This was his _twin brother_ right here. He was unsure if he was ever going to see him again, he was going to leave through there, and he couldn’t even say goodbye without blowing his cover and ultimately making Murphy stay along with it, dragging him down into probably deadly experiments, too.

He really wanted to tell Murphy about the full plan. Just so he didn’t have to lie to his own brother anymore, just so he could give him a proper goodbye, have his support, his near, just have _Murphy_ with him during yet another one of the hardest moments in his life. He wanted Murphy to be okay with this. His foolish and probably useless plan to save his best friend by sacrificing his own health, his own life in order to find a cure. He wanted Murphy’s face to be the last one he saw before the surgery. He wanted to get rid of that fucking lump in his throat by simply telling his brother the truth and getting the weight of that truth off his chest.

But of course.  
Because Murphy was his brother, his twin, his younger sibling, the most important human being in his entire life, he couldn’t possibly do that. Because that was his job. He was Murphy’s big brother. Had always known and acted that way. Big brothers were always meant to be strong. Were always meant to keep their siblings from harm. Especially when said harm would come from their own sorrow. He’d always protected him. That’s why he’d jumped off a building to save Murphy once before, that’s why he stayed inside a building to save Murphy now.

Murphy _needed_ to leave this place. He’d gotten him this far now. There was no reason to screw it up again. He just wanted to get it done with.

“Alright, got it. Hurry. I’m gonna give ye a boost. And be fuckin quiet” Connor just said and knelt down a bit, shifting his weight on the slightly creaking bed to find a somewhat stable position. He intertwined his fingers and waited for Murphy to climb on top of the bed, too, but Murphy hesitated. When he finally followed through with it, Connor was actually caught off guard. Because instead of putting a foot in Connor’s hands Murphy actually moved forward to gently wrap his arms around Connor’s shoulders and neck instead, then clung to him _hard_.

“Okay, listen. I trust ye on this, too, but ye better fuckin watch out fer yerself and keep ‘em away from yer schtupid brain while I’m gone. Or I’m gonna kill ye, okay” Murphy said and Connor actually gasped once, into the heavy hug. His eyes immediately stung harshly with hot tears he very _barely_ managed to keep in. He just tsksed snarkily and retorted a useless “Are ye shitting me? Yer talking ta _me_ here!”, but then he immediately clung right back when he felt how Murphy tried to let go to get going. Connor squeezed his eyes shut and clung, clung, clung, not wanting to let go, until Murphy barely managed to breathe.

“I’m sorry, alright” Connor then said, this time, truthfully. “If there was a better way, I’d come with ye right fuckin now. Creep through air ducts and shit and…get lost just like back at te Copley. Sorry ye gotta go without me.”

Murphy chuckled awkwardly and nervously under the tight hug and gently stroke Connor’s back once.

“Hey, ye said ye trust me. So ye better stop talking like ye think ‘m about ta fuckin die or something” he answered right back and Connor chuckled.

 _Oh so oblivious Murph. Even now he’d never even waste a second of a thought on how_ he _could be the one dying, not the other way round._

“I know. Sorry” the older MacManus said and then let go, the tears gone once again and replaced with a fake smile, although this one was weaker.

“Anyway, let’s do this then” he said and looked down instead, to position himself again so he could give his twin a boost. Murphy looked at him a short moment longer, wondering, but then eventually did as his brother asked him to. He put a clumsy foot in Connor’s hands and then let him boost him up. Connor shook heavily under the weight and because he was standing on the bed that moved under their weight, but after some awkward and slow balancing in order not to make any noise, they eventually managed to get Murphy up there.

The tiles clattered and bent under his weight, but lucky for them neither brothers had eaten much in a long time which made the whole weight problem a bit easier at last. Murphy slowly moved and shifted about until he was sure the duct could carry him somewhat soundlessly, then he eventually and awkwardly turned around to look back down at Connor.

“East?” he asked once again to make sure, because the ducts and ceiling and cables really looked like a freaking dark maze.

Connor looked up and nodded.

“Aye. Just picture the windows here as orientation. It really shouldn’t be too far. Yer gonna find te drapes and know yer right. The elevator’s always open. Ye might have ta use some stairs if it doesn’ reach all the way down. Guy said he didn’t have enough left over. Just stick to the walkers.”

“Just great” Murphy muttered to himself with a little eyeroll, squinting at the spider webs and other dirt around him.

“Hey” Connor said from below, and Murphy looked back down.

“Ye can do this. I trust ye, okay. We both do.”

Murphy gave him a nod and tiny smile, but just like Connor’s it was hollow and the longing for a reunion was obvious in the look on his face, too.

“Aye.”

Connor smirked back and eventually got hold of the tile again so he could cover the hole up.

“Alright, move along then. Hurry. And be quiet” he said and then shifted the vent up, prepared to close the hole, hide his sibling away from sight and ultimately, seal the deal on what could be their last moment together.

“Connor” Murphy suddenly called out then, once again, just moments before the hole was sealed.

“What?” Connor asked, now a bit angrily as he looked back at the door with a worried look on his face. He was pretty sure those five minutes were just about up.

“Promise me yer still here when we get back” Murphy demanded and Connor turned his head to look back at him. Of course. He’d already seen that one coming. A fucking promise. Out of all things. How on earth could he possibly lie his way through this one. Promises. They had _never_ dared to break those. Not during their childhood, not in adulthood. Never. Their promises, they were the real deal. They were important. And of course Murphy had to demand this now.

He knew that his chances were very slim. He pretty much treated it all as a final thing, because evem Smith had said so after all, although indirectly. They didn’t even know how much they were going to cut out of him. And yet… Better equipment. There’s a _chance_. There was a chance he could survive this. There was a bloody, silly, impossible fairytale and chick flick like slim chance that they could have it all. That he was going to survive this, that Daryl was going to survive this, that a cure was going to be found, that everything was going to turn out alright. And for Murphy, he was willing to freaking bet on that slim chance, for Murphy, he was willing to promise him on that one.

“I promise” he said, after a short moment of just looking at his beloved twin brother. Murphy gave him a determined nod, now a little more confident and satisfied at least. Connor nodded right back, feeling hollow the moment Murphy turned around to get moving with a soft “Alright. Let’s do this, then.”

There was the difference. Murphy didn’t treat this as proper goodbye anymore, now that he had the promise. He wouldn’t look back another time, wouldn’t say anything anymore. He simply got going. Because to him, the promise was a thing of certainty. In his eyes, they were going to talk to each other again very soon. To him, it wasn’t a lie. And just like that, Murphy was gone. The hole was empty. Connor was alone in the room.

He had known that this was going to happen, had wanted it to be this way, had seen it coming, and yet, he was completely unprepared for the crippling pain that took hold of him, that took his breath away. Connor barely managed to place the vent where it belonged, barely managed to seal it with shaky fingers, put everything back in place, go to the cupboards, grab a few drapes and blankets and pillows to make the bed look like Murphy was still in there, sit in a way so he could hide the bed end where the head was supposed to be. He sat and shifted, triple checking everything to make sure. When it was done, he finally allowed himself to just sit there for a moment, let everything settle in his mind.

He couldn’t breathe. That was the first thing he managed to register apart from the pain. He simply couldn’t breathe. The lump in his throat and the pressure on his chest was simply too huge now. Connor just sat and stared at the floor with a blank, almost shocked expression on his face. Whatever was still functioning in his brain immediately tried to comfort him, telling him that if he approached this rationally, Murphy was technically still inside the building. That he was close, that he could feel him.

But he couldn’t listen to that part of his mind. He’d done it. The first goodbye, the first and most important safety precautions. Done. Murphy was on his way out and away from him. It was a good thing really, it was all going according to plan, and yet, it was already really damaging him.

He swallowed hard and rhythmically, multiple times, breathing in and out, in and out as he battled the urge to break down yet again, really weep over this. He tried to listen to the comforting completely rational part of his brain that told him that his death still wasn’t a 100% thing either, that there was a small chance even in this end of the world lack of modern medicine scenario. But it really was no surprise that he couldn’t take the advice anymore. He was _pretty_ damaged by now. Really on the brink of insanity, especially after the blowback with Daryl and the bite. So it was no wonder that he was actually fearing the worst.

Murphy was gone.

Again.

Only for a few hours. Maybe for a day or two. But he was gone now. Would be gone until after that vital surgery. It was just him and Daryl now. His dying friend. His best friend was fucking dying, probably today or tomorrow, and his twin brother was gone again.

And he still couldn’t breathe.

Connor craned his neck, leaned his whole body back and stared at the ceiling, stared at the vent he’d put back in place, allowed one or two tears to flow, allowed a single sob to escape, then squeezed his eyes shut, clutched to his shirt with the rosary underneath, and then started praying. He really prayed his soul out. For Murphy to get out of here okay, for Daryl to survive this, even for himself.

* * *

 

He just wanted to freaking die in peace.

And yet, here they were. Coming in and out, in and out, in and out. Over and over again. Probably checking on him, doing shit, he honestly didn’t even know anymore. Didn’t care. Didn’t bother to care. His earlier urge to fight was already forgotten again. He just lay there for the most part.

He was pretty sure that they’d pumped even more juice into him. Even more than what they’d done when they’d still thought he’d just been in a car crash. At some point, after whatever the hell they had done to him with their probing and testing and trying and stuffing, the pain in his leg had slowly subsided. Gotten worse at first, oh yes. A lot worse. Causing him to scream and curse and yell some more, just like Connor had done it the first time he’d been bit. But then, gradually, after hot feverish, sweat streaming and blood curling couple of minutes or hours, it had stopped.

At first, he thought that maybe they had amputated the leg. That was actually even more horrifying than the certainty that he was going to die and turn into a walker because he had it. He didn’t want to lose his leg. Wanted to stay the way he was, be the little bit of himself he still had left and die that way.

It took him a very long time to raise his head a little to look down on himself.

Between the looking up and shakily adjusting his body, he lost consciousness multiple times, now that the fever was breaking his body down more and more. But then, he eventually managed. And the leg was still there. He breathed out shakily, let his head fall back again and closed his eyes, sighing with relief.

He couldn’t feel it anymore, could hardly feel anything between the regular harsh stabs of pain, but at least it was something. And yet the crippling fear wouldn’t go away. He even already pictured them coming in here with a rusty saw, like in the movies, ready to hack away at it in a useless attempt to save him now. Just like what they’d done with Hershel. There it was his leg, bloodied, severed, a mess of blood and ripped muscle tissue on the white sheets underneath him.

It made him scream once again, throw his head back as he started shivering, seemed to go into shock even though he knew it wasn’t real. It was so agonizing, terrifying, defied his reality, that he didn’t even register when somebody entered his room again, shifted things around and made noise, then sat down next to his bed, took his hand.

The hand was icy cold. That’s what snapped him somewhat out of it.

Or maybe his skin was simply too hot to register any other normal body temperatures as warm. It was still cold enough to get him to focus.

“Let…let go of me…you piece of shit” he muttered angrily and finally managed to turn his head to the side after a while, to even now try to punch the nurse or doctor and shove them the hell away from himself so he could die in peace.

He opened his eyes wider when his feverish mind finally registered the face, drew the right connections and recalled the right memories.

Connor.

Of course it was Connor.

Daryl actually felt embarrassed. He looked at his friend, blinking rapidly under the sweat that ran down his forehead, and then eventually looked away, swallowing hard. He immediately forced himself to stop making any noise. Kept the agonized grunts and gasps and moans inside, just like all the cursing, complaining and whining about the pain. He wouldn’t do or say anything at first, didn’t want his friend to see how he truly felt. In fact, he didn’t want Connor to see him at all.

He didn’t want to go through the same shit _again_. Not like back after the farm in those godforsaken woods. Not like that. After all, the both of them had spent months putting each other back together, healing each other, supporting each other and lifting each other up. But it was almost impossible to keep that act up when he was sweating his ass off, had already started puking his guts and blood out regularly. There simply was nothing uplifting or positive and healing about _that._

It was no real surprise to him that Connor saw right through his hiding and trying to play it tough right from the off. After all, he knew what this felt like. He’d gone through this twice. That really was the other reason why Daryl didn’t want him to see him like that. It made him feel even more ashamed of himself. Connor had survived this twice and he hadn’t moaned about it half as hard. (Although they both knew that that assumption wasn’t even true. On the outside, Daryl moaned and screamed a whole lot less than Connor after his first infection, but he’d never allow to give himself that credit)

At first, Connor wouldn’t say anything either. Instead, he simply clung to his hand with his icy fingers, used the other hand to wipe the sweat away with the bedsheet. He simply took care of his dying friend, and that sickened Daryl more than anything. _Especially_ when he saw that stupid weird fucking tiny smile Connor had on his face while doing so.

“The hell you still doin here. I told yah I don’t want yah here no more” the hunter just snarled, his voice sounding hoarse and breaking more than once. He could conceal his misery in his body language, but he sure as hell couldn’t hide it in his voice. He tried to move away from Connor’s hands, turned his head to the other side and started shifting a bit more abruptly, but it was of no use. The cast and other bandages pretty much kept him locked in place, and even without that, he was too weak to really fight anything after all.

“Pretty much fuckin dyin, but ye can still give me the full angry redneck package, right” Connor said, and although Daryl didn’t see it at first, he knew that his friend still had that weird tiny smile on his face. The hunter eventually and slowly turned around again to just look at Connor.

“Seriously. T’hell you still doing here….I can’t believe you told ‘em. You piece of shit. Even when I’m dying yah can’t gimme peace.”

Connor just sat there and looked back at him, smiling more, although it once again was a really weird smile. Daryl was just about to get his shit together, was just about to snap at Connor about how he could let them torture him like that instead of letting him go, letting them pump shit into him to postpone his inevitable death. He really wanted to tell him how horrible and cruel this was, how he’d rather thank him if he just put a bullet through his skull to end this already, how much he hated Connor for letting them do this to him instead, but the hate, agony and anger was wiped away when it suddenly clicked.

He knew this Irish weirdo way too well by now to make sense of that weird smile. A realization that suddenly scared him a lot more than this whole dying deal.

“No” he breathed, because he _got_ it.

Connor just scoffed once, gave in to a proper and wide grin the moment he saw that Daryl got it. Then he abruptly stopped grinning and instead, looked down at their hands.

“Listen, I know this is usually te chick flick part where we get emotional and teary-eyed and all that shit, but I’m not really good at this so I’m just gonna fuckin tell ye how this is gonna go, okay” he said with a neutral, almost cold voice. For a short moment, Daryl actually remained quiet and didn’t do anything. Just lay there and stared back at Connor. Then, he lost it completely and way sooner than Connor had expected, seemed to explode with anger. He sent harsh words and fists flying to get some sense into his friend, his friend who just _sat_ there like this, saying cold _bullshit_ like this, giving it a treatment their relationship truly didn’t deserve.

“YOU..-“

The angry, _hurt_ and terrified words never left Daryl’s mouth because Connor immediately moved just like that, forward, pressed his left forearm to his friend’s chest to lock him in place while he used his other hand to clamp his mouth right shut with it.

“There’s nothing ye can fuckin do about it anymore, so ye better fuckin keep it together, okay. It’s a sealed deal” Connor snapped and struggled against Daryl, somewhat successfully and clumsily keeping that first fit locked in. Daryl struggled violently against his friend’s grip, glared back up at him with wide, hateful, and red, heartbroken eyes that immediately filled with tears, but Connor simply stared back at him with a strange look on his face, waited for him to calm down until Daryl was exhausted already. It was fairly easy to achieve considering the state he was in after the crash and bite, so Connor let go again eventually.

Daryl was still breathing in and out harshly, hot and messy tears running down his cheeks as he just glared at Connor, couldn’t believe any of this.

“This ain’t…”

Connor looked back an let out a soft sigh, sitting back down again, taking hold of that hand again which Daryl immediately clung to, eye contact breaking.

“Murph’s gone. I took care of that. So it’s just ye and me now, alright. I told te doc, he immediately started pumping stuff from me blood inta you t’slow the infection down, and he’s _really_ fuckin close ta finding a cure. He spent months on this shit. Ever since we ran. And like it or not, but I’ve made the decision ta give this a shot. My blood already saved yer life once. There’s a real chance this is gonna work. In fact, it’s actually the only chance you got. So here we go.”

“You complete fucking _idiot_ ” Daryl breathed, nearly choking on his words as he just stared at Connor, but the Irishman simply went on.

“I don’t trust them fully, ‘s why I got Murph outta here after all. But they need an immunity case and an infected ta test this whole thing, and I made damn sure yer first in line in order ta stop this entire fuckin bullshit once and for all. No matter what happens, you get a _chance_ -“

“YOU COMPLETE. FUCKING. IDIOT!”

Connor simply ignored him and went on.

”I got a chance, too. Whatever they gotta take from me, they got the shit they need ta do it here. It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s worth a shot so frankly….”

The first slap didn’t even take him by surprise. He’d let go of Daryl on purpose after all. Daryl slapped him surprisingly hard, considering his condition, but Connor still simply kept going.

“…Murph’s on his way back ta Rick and the others t’get them. They’re gonna come back here ta take ye with them because I sure as hell don’t trust these people ta have ye here any longer once it’s done with, so..”

Another slap. And another, harder each time, until the second outburst hit, completely consumed Daryl and made him forget all about his broken bones and bite. Then the punching started.

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT! YOU’RE NOT GONNA DO THIS!” he roared and tried to yank, punch, slap and scratch the shit out of Connor over this, as the hot and panicked tears started flowing all over again. He honestly couldn’t believe this. How incredibly fucking _stupid_ his friend was. How stupid, insane, and downright selfish to really want any of this. He’d had the fucking chance to just leave with his stupid brother. The one he’d always yapped about during the past year, the one he’d always wanted instead of him, whose name he’d been called by at first. He’d had the fucking chance to go and keep living with this other guy, leave him here to die in peace in a couple of hours, let his stupid’s god will be the way it was supposed to be.

And here he was. With _him_. Not with Murphy.

Connor got up abruptly and moved away, out of Daryl’s reach, but the hunter was nowhere near done and damn prepared to jump and fall out of this bed again to crawl after him, come after him, and slap the shit out him even more, punch some _sense_ into him.

“Yer the fuckin idiot here, I’M JUST TRYING TA FUCKIN SAVE YER LIFE HERE!”

“Fuck you, I’m pretty much dead already, you stupid prick! Don’t you ever fuckin understand that it isn’t up to you to play god? Yah can’t just decide who gets t’live and who dies, you asshole! Just fuck off and let me die in peace! It _happened_ , okay? Bohoo! People get bit and they die, that’s how this shitty world is now! Haven’t you learned a single fucking thing?!”

“I’m not gonna let my best fucking friend die, okay?! I’M the one who’s been living on borrowed fucking time here! If it weren’t fer you deciding not ta shoot me in the head after _I_ got bit the first time, if it weren’t fer you saving my ass all the time, **I** would be fucking dead right now, okay?! I’d be dead and you wouldn’t even fuckin be here, bit and all. _That’s_ the way it should be. I’m not saying I wanna fuckin die or change anything about what happened, I wanna fuckin live, I want this piece of shit happy ending and leave this shithole _with_ my brother _and_ you, but this isn’t Make a Wish, this is real life, so we don’t get that! Now shut the fuck up and be a fucking man about this!” Connor yelled right back and finally seemed to lose it, too.

He just stood there and stared right back at his friend with insane eyes and chest heaving, until he eventually took a deep breath and forced himself to get it together again. He swallowed and looked down at his rosary.

“Don’t make this that big a deal just because of yer pathetic self esteem. ‘m not just gonna sit back and wait fer ye ta die just cos ye think ye don’t deserve ta get a chance because it’s _you_. I’m immune. Me’n Murph, we already did what ye think’s impossible. There really is a fuckin chance fer a cure here, there always has been for other shit before. So deal with it.”

“You selfish motherfucker!” Daryl roared and flung himself out of bed to get to Connor in order to punch the shit out of him and get him to leave this way, but just like the time before, all he managed was to fall out of bed and scream once he hit the hard ground. He tried to roll on his back but the pain was unbearable, and before he could do anything at all he was already back to pretty much throwing his guts up from the impact. He groaned and started retching violently, fighting really hard to keep it in in front of Connor, but the blood and bile just found its way out.

He remained in the position he was, half lying on his belly, half on his side and rang for air between the coughs, breathing in and out harshly and with wheezing sounds as he fought for it to stop, but the blood and bile just kept coming. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear excited chattering outside the door that started rattling violently but wouldn’t bulge. Connor was on him in an instant, his cold and indifferent demeanor from before instantly forgotten as he knelt down next to Daryl and placed his shaky hands on his shoulders with countless freaked out “No, no, no”’s, trying to hold his friend steady.

“Shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit” Connor repeated over and over again in a crazed mantra and with wide eyes, taking care of his friend as good as he could as his very own lump in his throat and the pressure to his chest was back.

It took Daryl a while to come down from the fit. And once he did, he was no longer able to be really angry, or agile, or vocal about anything. He was simply too exhausted. He somewhat turned on his side finally took note of the fact that Connor had put stuff in front of the door to keep people outside, had probably run from them at some point, too. They were locked in here for now without people interrupting their talk this time, so that was something at least. But things got worse already anyway.

Connor tried to heave Daryl back on the bed, but given the additional physical strain and Daryl’s weak groan that was loaded with pain when he was shifted, the Irishman’s façade finally shattered like glass.

He let go of Daryl abruptly and fell back on his ass, pressing a hand to his face to shield his eyes and then just sat there for a moment, completely still apart from the sudden rhythmic shaking that took hold of his body.

Daryl slowly and shakily managed to turn on his back, didn’t even give a shit anymore that he rolled right into his own puddle of blood and bile as he tried to move towards his friend, sit up as good as he could. He managed after a minute or so, a minute Connor put to good use to try and get himself back together yet again, although it was an impossible attempt. He sniffed loudly once and shifted, moved the hand down and away from his eyes to cover his mouth and nose instead, pressing the hand so hard against it that it looked like he was about to break his nose with it.

He just sat there and stared at Daryl with wide, red and tearstained eyes for a good, quiet minute, until he finally shifted again with an angry snort.

“I wasn’t gonna fuckin cry, man” he retorted and sniffed once more, only to chuckle once, miserably.

Daryl smirked pathetically once, too, but then got back to trying to keep another wave of retching and blood inside just so he wouldn’t spoil the moment. He was way too pale under the light, looked even more like shit than Connor with the blood, sweat and spit everywhere, but the both of them honestly didn’t give a shit anymore, they were far too deep into this whole thing, the relationship, to even take much note of all the dirt and messed up shit the world threw at them.

“Fuck..” Connor said and tried to get rid of the tears. “Look at me, ye turned me into a complete fuckin pussy over this..”

Although he honestly didn’t feel like it anymore, really _felt_ that he was dying now, he still gave in to a very honest but sad smile and chuckle.

“Bullshit. ‘s there ever I time yah _didn’t_ sob like a princess ever since yah started getting on my nerves? That ain’t cos of me, it’s all just you, leprechaun.”

Connor snorted loudly.

“Yer the one talking bullshit here, fella” he just said and then they both fell quiet and just looked at each other, looked at each other deeply and honestly. And Connor was fed up with everything.

“I fuckin love you, man. Alright. **I.** **fucking.** **Love** you. And I’m not gonna run off inta the sunset with my brother the way ye think ye picture it, and let you die. I’m not” he said, never breaking eye contact. “I don’t give a shit that it’s selfish. I don’t give a shit that it breaks yer fuckin heart. Yer the one who summed it up perfectly back on the farm. _I’m_ the one who needs people ta survive. Not you. If you die because of me now, too, after the shit _I_ pulled in Boston…I’m never gonna be able ta live with that. Fucking both Murph and you up, that’s just bullshit. Ye hear me? So don’t ask this of me. Just don’t.”

Daryl just sat and stared, not even blinking, just staring at Connor as this brick wall of words hit him. The one thing that, after all this time, he still couldn’t wrap his head around. 34 or 35 years of people treating him like trash and never really caring about him. And now he’d met this man. This man who was willing and going to **die** for him simply because he _mattered so much to him_. And here this man was, and he was going to be taken _away_ from him. He was expected to live on without him, live on knowing that he’d had _that_ but lost it. Instead of dying knowing that he was loved and mattered.

“-love you, too, man. I could tell you the exact same shit. I just..” he retorted, his voice breaking, until he just got angry. “Fuck” he growled and punched the floor with his fist, then he pressed both his hands to his forehead and looked down on himself. “Why can’t you just fucking get that and…” Daryl actually _begged_ , his breathing becoming more ragged again as he fought the urge to start sobbing.

“I fucking get it, alright? I do, I just don’t see any other way. We’re big whiny babies who want each other ta live happily fuckin ever after, boohoo, but it’s not that easy. Let’s face it, man. Given all the odds and possibilities, this is our best shot. It’s not even certain that any shit’s gonna happen ta me. This is exactly the fucking reason why I wanna _try_. Take fifty or eighty fucking per cent from me and stuff it inta yer chances so ye get at least a tiny fuckin shot at living. It’s not a bad takeaway. It’s not. I already did the maths.”

“Well did yah maths include all the complicated shit this guy told yah ‘bout this whole cutting around in yah brain deal? I ain’t stupid, leprechaun. There ain’t no chance yah gonna make it and we both know it. This is completely fuckin insane” Daryl snapped with a venomous look in his eyes, but Connor scoffed angrily.

“I survived worse.”

Daryl scoffed, too and looked away, tried to get away from the pain and panic that still invaded his body whenever he thought about how Connor could actually _die_ because of him, but there really was no getting away.

“Yer dying. Murphy’s head is screwed from the shot. I’m the only healthy one outta the three of us. That’s just the fuckin way it is.”

Daryl gritted his teeth hard and battled the tears more and more, but they already edged their way out of his eyes. The next, equally violent outburst of emotions and anger was on his way, too. He already considered knocking Connor out to throw him out of the window to get him to leave. He even considered biting him hard to infect him, too, to postpone the whole idea and screw up his ‘vaccine’ samples. He tried to come up with _anything_ at all to stop him, especially when Connor made it worse with his talking.

“Just think it through, man. Really do. A couple ‘a weeks ago I killed four men in cold blood. A couple ‘a days ago, I killed even more and even broke my own family code by killing a woman. How many more months do ye give me before I really flip my shit in this world? I kill more people than I save these days, and _I enjoy it_. This is a great chance fer me ta put it all right once and for all. We could find a fuckin cure. Not just fer you, but fer our group. Fer Rick, fer his children, fer all the others. They all talked about it two days ago. This is **exactly** what everybody fuckin wants. So let’s be rational about this and-”

Instead of punching, instead of yelling and arguing and all the other things they always did, Daryl did the only other thing he could come up with, his own shyness, problems, even the infection, blood and vomit in his beard completely forgotten because it was so urgent. He moved forward, shakily and clumsily and barely managing, given the little strength he had left and with the cast and broken bones in the way. But he still kept going and closed the distance between them to kiss Connor, really _kiss_ him for all it was worth, clinging and moving closer and closer until he grew desperate and needy.

Moving more abruptly and harshly, he actually started digging his abused and shaking fingers into the back of Connor’s shirt, clawed and clung as he tried to hold on to him, tried to keep him here, tried to stay here with him. He pretty much wanted to press all the air out of the guy’s lungs. In fact, that’s what he settled on, after a short moment of cold realization.

Yes. He wouldn’t let go and stop pressing until Connor blacked out.

Then he was going to tie him up in here.

Then he was going to push the bed and anything else he could find in front of the door to strengthen his friend’s previous efforts to keep people out. He wasn’t going to let Connor out of here, and neither was he going to let them come in here, until the bite successfully ended his life, until he was done. Just like his friend, he was selfish, too. He didn’t care what was going to happen to Connor after it. What it was going to do to him. He only knew that he didn’t want to die knowing his friend was going to throw his life away for him when he was dead already.

At first, Connor desperately clung right back to him. Kissed him back, lost his shit, too, probably let some tears flow as well, be all pathetic about it. But then after a minute of wriggling and moving about and Daryl managing to make Connor fall on his back and on the ground under his weight, the Irishman seemed to get it.

Especially when Daryl wrapped both his hands around his throat.

It wasn’t like he wanted to kill him. Never in a million years. He just wanted to choke him out, to pull his very own plan through. And oh how the cast truly helped him here, given the additional weight. Daryl barely had any strength left, but the fight was back in him, and he knew that this was his last fight, a now or never, live or die one, that he was fighting to save Connor’s life instead. He shifted his weight as much as he could, pinned and kissed and then strangled, trying to take Connor’s breath away, but it was a hard thing to do. Simply because he _didn’t_ want to hurt him, because he _loved_ this man, because he started sobbing like a baby.

Things were getting messy, frantic and deafening. The door started vibrating more and more as people outside tried to break in, screaming all sorts of things.

Connor started yelling at him, too, right into his mouth, got more furious by the second as he started bucking and fighting. Daryl’s tears were still flowing and he allowed himself to sob harder, amplified by Connor’s struggling and bucking underneath him.

“I’m sorry man” the choked words escaped his mouth and he only squeezed harder, really _wrapped_ his hands around Connor’s throat to try and speed things up. “There just ain’t no way ‘m gonna let yah do this.” Connor was gagging against his grip, furious eyes widened as he tried to fight the hands off, scratch him or kick him. But the whole thing had taken him completely by surprise. Never in a million years had he expected any of this. And it just got worse when Daryl came closer, was just inches away from his face, looked right down at him, even kissed him again and just kept sobbing like a miserable heap as he repeated his desperate “Sorry” over and over again.

The blackout wouldn’t happen.

Because the soldiers broke through the door already. Came in all crashing down and destroying anything in their way with the force they had gathered. Both Connor and Daryl abruptly looked in their direction, taken by surprise.

It was almost terrifying how fast things got into motion, how many people were out there to get a hold of Connor because they were done with his games he’d played to buy time.

“NO! NO! YOU STAY RIGHT FUCKING THERE AND LET HIM THE FUCK GO!” Daryl roared immediately, but was interrupted by another violent wave of pain, nausea, dizziness and fever from the infection, which was only getting amplified by a violent shove from Connor to get him off of him.

“It’s alright, IT’S ALRIGHT! I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s not what it looks like, I can…” Connor said almost immediately and turned around, feet scrapping across the floor and losing grip as he did so, until he clumsily managed to get up in front of Daryl.

Daryl, who still tried to scream at them, hurt them and get at them but couldn’t, because he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t say anything. Instead, another wave of pain and nausea took hold of him, caused him to violently throw up blood and bile. He kept retching and retching with bloodshot eyes but could still see how they took hold of Connor and yanked him away, towards the door, yelling all sorts of shit about missing Murphy and all the other shit the Irishman had pulled.

Connor kept trying to explain, kept trying to play it smooth, but even he couldn’t do any such thing anymore because he was a bit scared as realization hit him. This was it. This was the real deal. They were done and it was over. It was finally happening. There was no getting away this time. It was happening _now_. In this very moment, they both knew it.

Daryl, who was clinging to the ground as he fought through the nausea and pain and infection and tried to say and do _something_ , and Connor, who, after some more trying to explain and talk to these people, eventually stopped his attempts. Even though he’d made all these big speeches and tried to play it cool, there was some fear in his eyes now, too. After all, it was human and completely normal. And yet, he wouldn’t beg for his life, wouldn’t change his mind or try to get out of this. Because despite the fear of death, he suddenly felt something else flood his system too, more and more, the closer he got to the door.

Peace.

Fear and spinning thoughts and a billion questions, but it was suddenly there, too. Peace. Relief. Like a weight was being shifted off his shoulders. It was happening right now and he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Despite everything, he was fine with it, that it was going to happen. He was at peace with himself. Willing to believe in the promise he’d given to Murphy, finally willing to properly believe in his god and put his life in his hands from now on.

After all, he was doing it to save a friend.

Connor then turned his head and looked Daryl for as long as he could, gave him a long and meaningful look to let him know that this was it, that this was okay, that this was what he wanted, that this was goodbye. Moments before the door was slammed shut between them, Daryl could see that his best friend was smiling. Then he was gone.

 


	13. I see a darkness

**3 months later**

* * *

 

It was ridiculous that Murphy had asked him to come to his stupid wedding, too.

It was ridiculous to even call it a wedding.

It was even more ridiculous to actually _picture_ himself at the wedding.

Many things were ridiculous these days.

Especially the fucking wedding.

Daryl walked around the woods without a clear destination. He waded through the deep snow, limping a bit, made his way past the icy cold frozen edges of the small lake and just kept going. There were many things he didn’t understand these days, couldn’t make sense of. The purpose of his walking around these woods for starters.

It wasn’t even a real forest. Sure, there were trees. There were bushes and the lake. But it still was what it was. A park in the middle of Atlanta. The truth was that he knew exactly why he was here. The trees, the sense of a “forest” was comforting to him. Offered him a place of refuge, away from all the _shit_ back there.

Daryl kept walking and walking, wading through the snow, until he stopped in his tracks.

A lonely figure. Staggering around the clearing just ahead. Just like him. Aimless. Clueless. Confused. Lost. Daryl pressed his lips together, acknowledged that it kept them a little warmer, and then kept going. He kept walking and walking until he was pretty much right next to the walker, but just like the now many times before, nothing would happen anymore.

They had really done it.

Wildfire was beaten.

Winter was here yet again. Less than two years, and things were going the other way. Their way. Daryl walked close to the walker. Watched him wade through the snow, too, wearing nothing but a dirty pair of boxer shorts. The walker wasn’t freezing of course. The cold only made him move slower. A lot slower. Back in the day, they had been so happy about that. That they could use it as advantage, that despite the cold, they could be kept a little saver from undead flesh eating monsters.

Now, the walkers were just pitiable. No longer dangerous. Just, pathetic. Slow. Stinking. The losing kind here. After all, they had died before the miracle ‘cure’ had been found. Now they were just there.

It would be easy to say that this was a victory. That this was a happy ending, that this was it. They had beat the monster at the end of this book. There was no more need to run from the undead, to kill them, to even look at them for a second time, which was exactly what he did.

He kept going. Kept his back turned on the undead, passed him, and kept going. Wading through the snow, walking around this fake forest and fake nature after this fake victory.

The truth was that they really weren’t any better than the walkers. Or at least, he thought that **he** wasn’t any better than them. In a way, ever since this shit had been pumped inside of him and ‘saved’ his life, he was closer to them than he’d ever been. Considered himself one of them. A monster that got people killed. A dead man walking, pretty much.

At least, he _should_ be dead.

But he wasn’t.

There had been many many times, especially during the first couple of weeks and then months, where he had actually _really_ considered killing himself. It was grotesque, really. Just like everybody else he knew that he _should_ be happy and hopeful and optimistic and a bit more relaxed, now that one of the two biggest threats in their world was gone. Everybody else was doing it. His group, all these other people they had grown to like back at Grady, even Murphy was doing it.

Murphy was the big deal really.

Pretty much the only reason why he was probably still alive. Apart from the other obvious reason that he never dared to think about. Murphy had talked him out of it many times, during the most crippling nights that were filled with blame, depression and survivor’s guilt. Murphy had been through it all along with him. It was funny how much of an almost equally important friend his lookalike had become, considering how the two of them had started out. Murphy wouldn’t let him go, and Daryl really thought that if it weren’t for him, he would be gone for sure.

It was kind of hard not to like the guy anyway. Considering how he was still so optimistic even now, believed in his stupid god so much, kept going every day. His belief, his way of coping with the whole thing was reason enough for Daryl to at least try, too. For him, for the group. That’s what Murphy _always_ said. For their people, for the kids, the ones that were already there, Carl, Judith, Emma, Tom, Suzie, or the one that was on the way.

Murphy was going to name his child Connor. Or Conaire if it was a girl. Not Connie. That was a stupid name, a name Connor had always hated to be called by _anyone_ whenever they had tried to mock him. Murphy was going to name his kid after his brother. In honor of his bravery and out of admiration and love for him.

That sickened the hunter the most.

Of course. The others had to keep going and be optimistic for the sake of these kids’ future. Murphy had to keep going for the sake of this new ‘Connor’ in his life now, too. He got that, he really did. And in a way, it really made him happy, too. Or pleased him at least. After all, he still wanted them to have a future, to grow up, to be happy.

Just not like this.

The main reason why he just couldn’t see it their way, be optimistic and proud, see it as victory, why he had wanted to die, sometimes still did, was that Connor couldn’t see it that way either, wouldn’t know that his brother was going to be a father, and that was all his fault.

Murphy always said that he should stop talking bullshit, that by the time the child was coming, Connor would be there, too. That he would be back, that this was all going to work out.

In moments like this, Daryl really admired the faith Murphy and pretty much his entire family had always had, the deep religion and spirituality that was attached to him. The younger MacManus truly believed that a miracle had happened, despite _everything_ , and that was the reason why he believed and prayed even more now, why he was convinced another one was coming their way, too. They just had to believe in it. Force it into reality.

Daryl still wasn’t sure if one could call any of it a miracle.

_Did a miracle really make people want to kill themselves because they were so disgusted by it, by themselves as they had been a part of it, had been the reason for it? He honestly didn’t know._

Technically, Connor was still alive.

Technically, he was aware of things, some way or another. That’s what they always said, too. Next to Murphy, their friendship and his stupid Irish, comforting talk, that had been the only reason for Daryl to not pull it through, not just off himself and correct this cosmic mistake. A lot of times, with all the miracle talk, he believed that maybe if he just did that, die the way he’d been meant to go, correct this huge mistake and disappeared, Connor would be set right again.

Murphy said he was going to be. Without needing to do any of that correcting cosmic mistakes crap. That once it got to it, Connor would need him to be there instead of just being a coward and logging out of this world. That was the second reason why he hadn’t pulled it through either.

Whenever Daryl asked the Irishman why the hell he would believe in that much bullshit and so many ‘miracles’ and so many maybes after all the shit that had happened to them, Murphy didn’t even give him his religion or god as an answer. He simply told him that Connor had promised, and that he never broke his promises to him. He was also always trying to make him believe that he just _knew_ , that he could feel it, that Connor himself was telling him this whenever he was with him, like they could talk on another freaky and deep level that wasn’t even there. Twin mojo and all that, he always said, which Daryl considered just another way of saying ‘bullshit’. That bullshit was still keeping him alive though, and it certainly seemed to help Murphy a _lot_ too.

For a while Daryl just walked and walked and walked until he reached the edge of the park, faced the abandoned and burned out parts of the city again that reminded him of the outbreak, the walking dead and Wildfire, the disease that was the reason why his friend had let these people turn him into a vegetable in order to save him from it.

Daryl immediately gritted his teeth, got angry and turned around to walk back, walk around the park _again_ , ignoring the budding pain in his thigh that had once been broken and not quiet healed the right perfect way.

He tried to forget about it for a moment. Tried to keep telling himself that he was mainly running away from Murphy’s stupid wedding idea, not what was back at Grady. He hated weddings. He hated parties. He hated people. He hated being in there, becoming civilized and humanized again, hated these celebrations and how everybody was moving on, and hated..and hated and…..

He wasn’t running from the wedding.

He let out a deep frustrated sigh, watched his breath escape his mouth in a white mist in the cold.

He was still running from Connor back there, always would. Running from seeing himself, running from the others and what they _always_ said.

He wanted to believe in their talk so _badly_. After all, even he could not deny that a miracle _had_ happened. Not just once, but three times. Wildfire had been the worst thing in their lives and it had been the best thing in their lives. Only because of this stupid thing, whatever it had been, Murphy had survived a headshot. Only because of this thing, he had survived the fever, blood poisoning, infection, the bite itself, although barely. Only because of it, Connor was still ‘here’. After all of this, he knew he had some reason to believe that Connor was going to recover.

But then again. He had always been a realist, and there was just no way this time.

It had been three months since the surgery. Three months since they had managed to find something to reverse engineer something to stop the infection inside of him and later produce a proper vaccine to protect people from getting attacked. Three months ago, they had taken tissue right out his best friend’s brain in order to do that. And three months ago, a cut or the wrong movement of surgical tools, or whatever else had happened, had pretty much nearly killed Connor.

Stopped his vital functions, his breathing, his heart, done damage to his nervous system or only god knew what for just a bit, and it had sent him right into coma, kept him from waking up. Well, technically, he was awake. His eyes were even open and everything. And yet, he was gone. No reaction, no interaction, no movement other than the most basic instincts and motor control.

In a way, he suspected that Connor could be considered a walker now, too. His heart was beating and he wasn’t decaying. That was pretty much the only difference. But just like Jenner had once said back at the CDC, whatever made people people, whatever shaped personality and intelligence and character and the ability to communicate, it seemed to be gone in him.

They both had always known that it would be risky. That it would be dangerous, that many many things could go wrong. Many things _had_ gone wrong no matter how they spun it. Even Smith had admitted that he’d never truly believed that Connor was going to come out of it the way he had been, especially after he had seen how much of the stem had really been affected by the pathogen.

The pathogen, the thing that reanimated the dead and kept the walking had been the only thing to save him from the other death, the total death of not just him and his personality, but also his body. It had restarted some of the damaged nerve tracts and tissue just like it did. Just like before, it had kept him from organ failure. It was still doing that in fact, working around his brain and reanimating and doing something in it, but more than anything Daryl thought that it only kept his friend locked in a terrible, miserable place, just his body in fact, like a brain dead patient that was only being kept alive by pumping machines. And he was going to be kept alive on purpose because even months after the surgery, they were still taking blood and other samples from him to try and figure out that final piece of the infection and his immunity, the reanimation itself, to stop the dead coming back to life once and for all.

That was the thing that hurt the most, and that was the real monster at the end of _their_ book, the one nobody ever truly talked about, prepared one for. A ‘heroic’ sacrifice was never poetic. It was never beautiful or dignified or just or with any sort of order and logic. The price of this cure and his own life wasn’t fair, wasn’t righteous or justified or okay in anyway. It was ugly. It was painful. It hurt, and survivor’s guilt, the real, proper deal, that was no joke. Even for him.

A cure usually meant a happy ending.

_But where the fuck was their happy ending? Fucking where?_

Daryl knew that he was already getting stuck in his dangerous depressed thinking loop that could lead to some stupid risky behavior and yet another string of death wishes but he did not care. He had lost his entire family. His big brother. A best friend. A lover, the only true friendship, the only true and deep _relationship_ he’d ever had. For the sake of what? Breathing? Walking? Talking? Eating shit and shitting it out and going on and just being there? It was so stupid, so worthless, so anticlimactic. What a great, big, pretty fucking happy ending.

After all this time, his thinking that maybe, he’d been allowed to be happy too, to have a life, to heal, to better himself, smirk, then smile, then grin, then laugh- it had all been one massive farce and he’d been right all along. Life only ever gave him happiness so it could _hurt_ more. And now he was….

“Hey dickhead!”

A snowball actually clogged him hard in the face. Almost knocked him on his arse, and threw him right off his pitch perfect black misery cloud. He gulped and then fought hard, coughing and getting rid of the snow in his face, until he looked up.

Murphy came jogging towards him with a massive grin on his face.

Fuckin _grinning_ despite everything.

“Fuck off you asshole!” he growled angrily and turned on his heels again because he really wasn’t in the mood for this shit right now. Shoving his hands right into his pockets, he started walking faster.

“Hey! Slow the fuck down!” Murphy called again but Daryl only walked faster.

“And I said fuck off!” he just retorted but then Murphy was already there. Daryl turned around and swung a punch. Murphy dodged it almost expertly because he could read his lookalike like a book, knew almost everything about him now, how he ticked, what the expression on his face meant.

“Chill out, Scrooge. I only came cos we need ye back at Grady’s.”

“What’s it now” Daryl said after a moment and seemed to relax a bit. After all, he hadn’t meant to try to punch Murphy, he’d just been a bit too angry.

“Dunno, Rick said’s pretty important. They need ye fer something. I’m guessing another scouting mission or ta check that damned Chevy that broke down again. Ciggie?” the younger MacManus asked and offered him one with a neutral smile. Daryl glared at it suspiciously but eventually took it, put it in his mouth and then lit it with his own lighter.

Daryl pressed his lips together on the smoke, not really sure if he should consider it a good thing that they needed him or not. He liked that they were trying to put his skills to use. That he was allowed to help them with the cars, scout Atlanta for survivors, anything he could do really to stay the hell away from that Grady place. But the darker part of his brain that was still there tried to tell him that of course nobody needed him and that he shouldn’t even be here and that they sure as hell should learn to take care of this shit themselves.

“Ain’t really in the mood right now” he just growled and then fell silent again, lips pressed together to a pale and hard line, trapping the cigarette between them as he gave Murphy a slight nod and turned around to get back to his walking circles around his fake woods.

“I got the booze ye asked about” Murphy called after him and Daryl slowed down. “If ye wanna talk, or if ye don’t wanna talk ‘n just get drunk, it’s back there, too. Got it in my room. Taped ta the outside of the fuckin window. Ha.”

Daryl scoffed a little and finally stopped walking. He took a drag on his cigarette, inhaled the smoke and then blew it into the winter air, only to stare at the cancer stick in his hand for a while. Oh how he hated the little shit for playing that part. He really didn’t want to go back there. But at the same time, fuck yeah he really wanted to get drunk. He wanted to get so shitfaced that he passed out again. Even if the whole passing out had been the main reason why they’d kept any sort of alcohol as far from him as they possibly could.

Daryl turned around and just looked at Murphy, and Murphy was staring back at him with a weird look on his face.

“I kinda need a drink, too” he then said and Daryl continued to stare. The awkward silence and staring seemed to go on for a good minute until Murphy eventually broke the silence.

“I’m kinda freakin out right now and could use a friend, alright? About te whole kid deal, the…well, everythin’.”

Daryl stood and still continued to stare, wondering how he should and was going to react, but then came to the conclusion that he owed Murphy. After all, the guy had listened to his miserable rambling, too. Had pretended to help and listen. Maybe he should pretend and help and listen now as well. In a way, it was a good thing to keep his mind off his own misery. And even more so, it would probably be a good thing to have other people be miserable, too.

“You better got some good booze and a shitload of smokes” he said and then simply got walking. Past Murphy, back to his most dreaded place.

* * *

 

“….I mean, what if it has three legs and shit…”

“…uhuh…”

“…or she suddenly panics and misses Mike, her previous husband, and how he handled dat shit and how…I don’t even know if I love ‘er or if I just don’ wanna be alone….”

“..yeah, hm, sucks, I know…” Daryl responded lifelessly and in a monotonous voice as Murphy talked him through his problems on their way to the younger MacManus’ room. He didn’t pay any attention and knew Murphy didn’t care. They both knew he’d only come along because of the word booze. And in a way, the company certainly did him good.

He was aware of the looks he was being given all the way down the hall, looks from their guard shift, new survivors who were scared of him, their group by the cafeteria, the gentle brush and stroke of Carol’s hand down his arm when she passed him, Beth’s soft smile and slight nod and the promise that she could sing something for him if he ever asked her again, Michonne’s nod right back when they crossed paths.

“….what if he had a bigger dick and shit and she wants ta watch Oprah…”

“….yeah, man, I get it…”

Then they crossed paths with Rick, who was walking down the corridor with some of the soldiers and other policemen, seemed to be so busy talking to them that he didn’t even acknowledge them or greet them on his way to wherever he needed to go. Daryl turned around a bit to look back, followed Rick with his gaze until their leader disappeared around the corner.

“….I mean, I don’t even know how ta fuckin cook and…”

“Hey, didn’tyah say Rick needs me here?”

“Well…” Murphy muttered and Daryl stopped in his tracks to look back at him.

“Well how the fuck was I gonna get ye back here otherwise?” his lookalike eventually admitted angrily. Daryl scoffed, looking almost disgusted by it for a moment.

“Fuck you” he said and turned on his heels, ready to leave again.

“Hey wait te fuck up!”

Daryl just scoffed once more and kept walking, but Murphy caught up to him again until he ended up right in front of him.

“I said ye could have the booze, okay? Stop being so far up yer arse all the time and pay attention ta other people fer once, wouldye? Come on, if ye don’ wanna be here, let’s get te booze then and go somewhere else. I need this.”

“Fine. Go get your shit then” Daryl said, ready to leave the moment Murphy was gone but unluckily for him, the younger MacManus wasn’t falling for it.

“Ye really think ‘m that stupid? Yer coming along, fella.”

Just like the many times before, Daryl slowly and carefully tried to get back to his more reserved and protected state. The one where he simply stopped reacting and talking and started minding his own business. With other people, simply walking out on them usually worked. However, after everything, Murphy, the little _shit_ , had actually managed to get to him, deserved a little more.

There really was some truth about what that stupid pleading look on his face could do to people. Just like Connor had alwa… He immediately stopped himself in his thinking, shut down on everything before things got out of control. He really needed that fucking booze.

“Fuck it, ‘m gonna get the shit myself. Thanks for the offer, emo kid” he said and turned in the other direction to head for Murphy and Samantha’s room.

“Hey, ye can’t just take my shit!” Murphy immediately snapped angrily and followed him.

“You said…”Daryl just muttered and ignored the younger MacManus twin otherwise.

“I said I’d hand it over as long as ye listen ta my shit fer once!”

“Nah” the hunter responded and kept going. If it weren’t for the general shitty depressed mood he was in, he would smirk and find pleasure in his teasing. Now, it was just a habit though, without any real fun or emotion or importance connected to it.

“Hey, fuck you!” Murphy yelled and seemed to be ready to throw a punch, but that’s when Daryl had already reached the door and opened it, ready to use it as shield or to knock it right in his lookalike’s face just for the sake of it.

Instead he stopped dead in his tracks, just stood there as if he had hit a brick wall because of what he was seeing. Murphy turned up right next to him, curious and eager to get inside as well and Daryl was glad he was there because he needed something to hold on to, to feel, to let him know that this was real.

“…well either ‘m really losin my shit now or…there’s fuckin three of ye now” the person he saw muttered as he looked at the two of them.

Daryl nearly passed out from the shock. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even move an inch when Murphy tried to get past him all nonchalantly. Daryl just stared and stood there like a statue, really paralyzed from the surprise and unable to function for just a moment.

Talking about losing his shit.

He probably had.

There was no other explanation to it because _Connor couldn’t be here_. More importantly, _couldn’t fucking talk, couldn’t even look at him_.

Now he was definitely going crazy.

Well at least, his mind was smart enough to try to trick him into thinking this was real by adding some realistic features to all this. It wasn’t too dreamlike, too farfetched and unrealistic. Connor looked as sickly as he’d looked the last time Daryl’d had the guts to visit him a couple of weeks ago. He wasn’t standing there looking like his usual self, he was still in those ugly hospital clothes, had lost much weight and muscle after being comatose for so long. He was in a wheelchair and certainly didn’t look like he was going to be able to walk by himself for a while. His eyes looked a bit funky and he seemed to have trouble blinking and seeing properly. His speech sounded a bit strange and slurred as if he had something in his mouth. It certainly looked and sounded like he’d gone through massive brain surgery with complications. And yet, it couldn’t possibly be true.

“…I think we broke ‘im, brother” Connor eventually said and actually looked a bit surprised and maybe even a bit disappointed. Murphy came to a halt next to him, knelt down beside Connor a bit to check on him as he scoffed and eventually looked back at Daryl.

“I told ye this’d be a schtupid idea and pretty fucked up”

“Come on, it’s a little funny.”

Connor couldn’t really smile. That was the next thing that told him that wasn’t a pitch perfect dream. He certainly seemed to try, but most of his facial muscles didn’t seem to respond to well either. It probably explained the speech, and it certainly explained a lot of other things.

The fact that this was _real_.

In a way, they were both equally fucked. Not able to do things that mattered in order to get this whole communication deal going the right way. Connor couldn’t be his full usual self. He was weakened. He was battered. Some of him had been stripped away.

And just like Connor, Daryl seemed to be unable to get some things right, get some things working the way they were meant to work. A general response for example. He just _couldn’t_ react. Not for the sake of it, no matter how much he wanted to after all these months. It really felt like something was broken in him. He wanted to cry because he knew he was so happy. He wanted to panic and really let everything out that he’d stuffed all inside himself, kept locked up and hidden away. He wanted to yell at both Connor and Murphy. Murphy, because he’d obviously known. Had played along and _not_ told him the moment Connor had woken up, started responding, started reacting to the world again. And yell at Connor for _so_ many reasons. The easiest one being that even now, he wouldn’t stop playing his sick mind games, his sick ideas of what he considered funny, like not telling his best friend that he was alive and keeping it as a ‘surprise’ to hit him as hard as he possibly could.

The most obvious reason why he really needed to yell at Connor was the cause of all this, why they were both the way they were now. _How could you do this to me. How could you agree to all this. How could you. How how how._

None of it came out. No reaction at all. Not a vocal one. Not an emotional one. Not even a physical one. Other than the one where he suddenly turned around and left the room again, without a word, without any sort of acknowledgment.

For a long moment, Connor and Murphy actually stared at the door that had been closed on them, really surprised and almost shocked by Daryl’s reaction, or even more so, the lack thereof.

“I’ll talk ta him” Murphy eventually said gently, but Connor grabbed his arm, missing the first time. When he finally managed, his grip was surprisingly firm considering his weakened state.

“No. Give ‘im some time” he ordered, but it was still obvious that the reaction didn’t do him any good. Now that their mental connection had become _so_ strong during Connor’s coma, it was fairly easy for Murphy to tune into his twin’s emotional world, what was really going through his mind.

It still hurt him a lot, but he’d had months to get somewhat used to the emotional trauma, used to the fact that Connor, this rock and steady force in his life, was momentarily very weakened, vulnerable and different, too.

He could sense that Connor was really worried, and really scared. He was worried that he wouldn’t be able to fix this. Even after that insane thing he’d done to help Daryl and what had turned out to help what was left of their world, even after all of this and the crippling after effects he was going through because of it, Connor was still worried that this was his fault, was incredibly scared of losing the people he loved the most. And he was more than scared of the possibility that Daryl hated him now, didn’t want him any longer, didn’t want him like this after he had let them do this to him.

“Con, he’s just freaked out cos we kinda ran him over with this thing. We shouldn’t have surprised him like that, ‘s all. I know ye just wanted it ta be a nice surprise but….well… maybe we should’ve just let him in on this and told him right from the off insteada just…”

“…I wasn’t gonna fuckin let him see me like this, Murph. Least I could do was get my..get…”

“….yer speech back and actually be understandable, I know.”

He kind of really didn’t blame Connor there. Connor had ‘come to’ about a month ago. Only just blinking as response, really, trying to move a bit, trying to function a bit. Whenever Daryl had been around, which had thankfully hadn’t been much considering his guilt and depression, he’d either been asleep or pretended not to be there just so Daryl wouldn’t have to know that he was there but couldn’t even do the most basic things. Best friend or not, misery or not, it was simply humiliating to have him see that and he knew that it would’ve only made the guilt and depression in Daryl much much worse. After all, Murphy had told him everything about the state Daryl was in. How much he blamed himself for the somewhat failed intervention, how much he condemned him for it, too.

For weeks he and Murphy had practiced the most basic things. Moving his hands, his fingers, trying to talk and find his speech again, make sense of everything again. He still couldn’t stay awake for long. He still couldn’t talk in long sentences. He was still fighting his way through the momentary memory loss and confusion that was only slowly, agonizingly slowly, subsiding. But during those past couple of weeks, he’d at least gotten his basic dignity back, gotten enough of himself back to be able to face Daryl, to be able to say some things, make sense of things. And he’d been looking forward to it _so much_.

Last time he’d seen him, Daryl had pretty much tried to kill him. Or choke him out, with his hands wrapped around his throat. Of course it wouldn’t have been easy to connect again after what had happened, after what he’d done in order to save him. But he really hadn’t expected that.

He didn’t know if he was just disappointed, or angry, or frustrated or upset or simply scared.

“..’s worse than I thought” was all he managed to say. Murphy stood beside him and turned Connor’s former firm grip around, grabbed his hand instead so he could hold it tight, give his twin the support he really needed now. He held the hand tight and stroke the cold, almost greyish palm with his thumb.

“He’ll manage. Was a lot worse in the beginning. He just crashed pretty hard cos loves ye a whole fuckin lot more than he’d ever care ta admit.”

Connor somewhat managed to snort.

“Didn’t exactly feel like it last time I saw ‘im.”

Murphy chuckled and then got moving to get behind the wheelchair so he could move Connor back to his room and bed, sensing that his sibling was quickly reaching the end of his day’s worth of energy already.

“I think you and I both know that his way of saying ‘I love ye’ is a fist fight and a scowl.”

Connor tried to laugh gently but failed. It didn’t matter though because Murphy understood it anyway and did it for them both. Connor tried to reach back for his hand again, really glad that he had his brother with him, that Murphy was there to keep all three of them going now that they really needed it.

* * *

 

He just lay there in the dark, head turned to the side as he watched the snow fall against the windows. The world was quiet, just like always, but it felt like a different kind of quiet now. A peaceful kind of quiet. The snowy white even covered some of the burn marks on the skyscrapers and other buildings that had been affected by all the napalm bombs that had been dropped here less than 18 months ago, as if it was trying to heal these wounds, too.

Connor was somewhat certain now that with the upcoming spring, their world was going to start recovering some way or another. The walker threat was gone for everybody now. Or at least for a while.

No matter how few people were alive, how few _good_ people, they were going to manage. They had a working system, some incredibly useful, resourceful, and most of all good people here. Their group, the new survivors, even those police and soldier folks that had already been here. He was also pretty sure that some way or another, Murphy and him would now be needed more than ever. To get rid of the remaining threat, the remaining filth on the streets that were going to try anything to destroy their efforts, their vaccine, the rebuild and better humanized future in order to keep their anarchy and chaos of murder, rape and theft up.

He had all winter to recover, to heal. He granted himself that much time, because he knew that it would be important for him and his brother to be strong and good health to go back to their calling, back to the job their almighty god had given them so many years ago, to help destroy everything that was evil so that their good could really flourish now.

Connor tried to smile a little although he couldn’t, but he managed to take hold of the rosary on his chest instead. God. Their god. Everybody’s god. After all these months, he had shown to work in mysterious ways indeed, to be way more gracious than Connor figured he’d deserved. He’d gotten all three of them through all of this alive. No matter how painful, no matter how terrible and complicated and bloody and messy and fucked up it had been, all of this had been necessary to put them on the right path, to get them here. He had made them immune, he had helped them find a cure to help the remaining people, to rebuild and have heaven on earth now.

Peace was a beautiful thing indeed.

It was almost impossibly loud when Connor heard the door open, considering how quiet the outside world was, with everybody sleeping and the snowfall. The door wasn’t creaking, and wasn’t even really that loud but it disrupted the silence nevertheless and Connor actually startled a little bit.

Turning his head slowly and carefully to allow the scared skin on the back of his head to adjust just like his vision and balance, the Irishman eventually managed to look at the door, hoping it to be Murphy who he just knew couldn’t sleep well either. Now that he was conscious and slowly recovering, now that this new future was ahead, it was hard to quieten their thoughts so they could sleep and properly give in to their exhaustion and tiredness.

Murphy wasn’t standing there.

It was Daryl.

Although the dark and the shadows concealed some of his face, he still looked like shit. Just like him he had lost a lot of weight after the car crash, broken bones, infection and his own treatment to try and get him through.

Connor knew that Daryl had barely made it as well. He’d already been delirious, unconscious and half dead from the fever by the time they had managed to find something after his surgery, to really slow the infection down and then halt it. The artificial keeping him alive with Murphy’s blood and the prototype until they had found a cure to work with had taken its toll on his body as well, although this was certainly not the worst. Days of physical agony had soon made way for weeks and months of mental wounds.

Connor now and finally somewhat understood why Daryl had accused him of just being selfish with the idea to save him, that this had never been about saving his life and him, that it had always been about how he just didn’t want to be alone, and didn’t want to have to live through this instead. In a way, despite the surgery, the near death experience and long humiliating recovery time, he’d had it pretty easy compared to Daryl, he agreed with this now. Most of the time he had been gone through it all. Comatose, unconscious, asleep. He hadn’t been there, hadn’t gone through the worst mental suffering the way Daryl had. He never had to live through the crippling pain of really seeing his best friend in deathbed, gone, hurt like that. He’d saved himself from all that with his decision.

He felt really sorry for all this. He agreed with Daryl on it now. He would completely understand if his friend hated him for it now and never forgave him. But no matter what, he wasn’t going to take it back. He was _never_ going to say or even think that he’d do it any differently now. Because despite everything, despite this huge train wreck, Daryl was alive now. And he was alive now. And people were different. Happier. More hopeful. Sacrifice was never easy, it was never just, but in their case, it was definitely worth all the damage it had done.

He wanted to tell his friend all this but couldn’t, wouldn’t. Not just because there was no way he could talk for so long and get the words right and understandable, but also because he knew his friend inside out, knew that Daryl knew all this, that he didn’t need to tell him that or explain himself.

All he could do now was give Daryl time, apologize for the general pain and suffering, but then leave the rest up to him, their relationship, their trust. So he just lay there and looked at Daryl by the door, in the dark, and waited.

Daryl just stood there and waited, too. Looked back, hands clutching to the red rag he held in both of his hands, clutching and twisting it, smudging his fingers with the oil on it. Up until just a few minutes ago, he’d spent his night in the parking garage. Tried to fix the Chevy instead of sleeping because he needed to keep himself distracted, needed to keep his mind and hands busy. Until he had simply stopped, stared at the machine for a good minute, until he’d made his way up all flights of stairs, rag still in his hands, determined to get to this room and let it out.

He’d needed to get away from the car so he wouldn’t let his anger out on it and break it, had left in order to final let all that _anger_ and _hurt_ out on the person it was aimed at, the one who was really to blame instead of a car engine. He’d really worked himself up on his way up the stairs, tried to sort his thoughts to come up with the right words, the right reasons. Had been all set up to end _everything_ between him and Connor, their friendship, their relationship, any sort of contact because he had always been the reason why he’d gotten hurt both physically and emotionally during the past year, _especially_ on an emotional basis. Told himself all about how their relationship had never been healthy at all, for either of them, that he was done with Connor’s mind games, that this was it, the final straw.

He stood there and writhed the rag, twisted it harder and harder with muscles flexing underneath his winged leather jacket and lips pressed together to a hard line. He stood there until he finally got moving, quickly, breathing harshly and almost labored as he crossed the distance between the door and the bed to get to Connor.

Instead of yelling, instead of punching and blaming and tearing him apart Daryl quickly lay down on the bed beside his friend, wrapped his arms and leg with the dirty wet and muddy boot around his figure and then pressed his face into the side of his neck, breathing in and out, in and out shakily. He eventually no longer fought it and started sniffling helplessly, harder and harder until his whole figure seemed to shake with it. He clung for all it was worth and allowed the lid he’d put on his emotions for the past couple of months to fly away with the eruption, allowed himself to feel _so_ relieved and happy and desperate because his friend was still here. He felt so relieved and shocked by the outcome that there was no way for him to fight the urge to sob and cry over this, so he did.

“Hey, man, hey, it’s alright, I’m fine, okay? Take it easy..” Connor said helplessly and tried to change positions so he could hold and hug right back, freaked out by Daryl’s sudden and completely unexpected emotional response, but then he finally couldn’t keep it in either.

Daryl looked up after a short moment, black hair sticking to his face in wet strands as he frantically moved forward to close the last distance, kissed him forcefully, twice, and then got back to the frantic and horrified clinging. Connor acknowledged that there really weren’t any words needed right now so he just clung back for all it was worth, too, letting Daryl move and shift against him until it almost turned into a cradling motion. They both kept their faces shoved into each other’s shoulder for what felt like forever, digging fingers into fabric until they were sure at least one piece of fabric was going to rip.

“You alright? ‘d really fuckin work?” Connor eventually muttered, voice thick with emotion. Daryl just nodded frantically at first but then shook his head because he really wasn’t alright at all, but Connor already knew that anyway.

“Holy shit, man” the Irishman went on because it only just _really_ hit him now, too.

They had made it.

His plan, his shitty fucking plan had worked once again. Not quite the way he’d expected it to work, but it had worked nevertheless. They were both alive. They were both here. They had both made it.

After a very long time, at least ten minutes or more of just clinging mindlessly to each other, Daryl slowly started to relax. Moving and shifting, he eventually looked up and just stared at Connor, inspecting every inch of his face, the long stubble, the weak muscles, the changed eyes. No matter what, he really was here in some way, and he really was with him.

“You’re such a dumb, _stupid_ piece of shit” was the first thing Daryl finally managed to say to his friend. He considered hitting him for this crazy thing but then refrained from it, knowing that Connor was hurt enough already as he was. The way the corner of his friend’s mouth twitched, Daryl knew that this was the moment where Connor was usually going to give him that cocky smirk if he could.

“Aw look at her, she missed me” Connor teased and moved a clumsy hand up to comb through Daryl’s black hair with his fingers once, which the hunter shook of with a scoff.

“Try t’make fun of me again when yah don’t sound like yah got a bunch of fish sticks in your mouth.”

Connor widened his eyes in surprise and somewhat managed a steady chuckle.

“Ouch! Right below the belt!”

After another short moment of studying Connor’s face, Daryl eventually allowed himself to smirk just a tiny bit. Then he breathed out gently and moved his hand up to let his fingers travel through Connor’s hair, too, moving the fingertips along his scalp until he felt the long scar where the intervention had happened. Gently and shakily feeling it, Connor just let him do it and stared back at Daryl instead, studying his face, too.

“Asshole” Daryl muttered under his breath after a moment as he let go, because even now that Connor was awake and not dead or gone because of it, he still couldn’t believe that he’d really let them do this.

Connor just chuckled a little again, softly, remembering what Murphy had said.

“Fist fights and scowls” he mumbled and Daryl stopped, looking back at him with a confused and a little angry frown.

“What?”

“Nothin” Connor simply answered and got back to looking at his friend without a word. Daryl kept looking back at him, too and eventually leaned down to kiss him once more, softer this time, in an almost comforting way for the both of them, until he lay back down, as well, right next to him, and got back to staring at him.

They wouldn’t say anything anymore after it, wouldn’t do much other than studying each other’s face as they got lost in their own thinking world, both drifting and falling off their momentary happy reunion cloud. The still very prominent problems and scars weren’t just blown away by the reunion and they both knew it. Daryl was going to need a lot of time to recover from the emotional trauma and the guilt. Connor was going to need a lot of time to piece himself together again on the physical basis. After all, Daryl suffered from severe depression, and Connor from the after effects of a real deal brain surgery, and that needed time and proper medical attention. Not just a simple five minute hug, and they were well aware of that fact.

But even with that reality, with that knowledge, they felt a bit better already, a little more at peace with themselves and in their relationship. After all, the being scattered and fucked up, the having to put themselves together again, that was something they were all too used to after their journey together. They knew it was going to take a while. They knew it was going to be hard. But they had each other, and they certainly had done it before.

 

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, wow. It would be a pretty big lie to tell you that I'm not crying right now, that I'm totally cool and happy that this monster of a series is finally over after having written more than 1.1 million words here.
> 
> Four years of my life have passed throughout my writing of this series. Back in 2011 when I tried to write the first chapter for Salvation, I was in a very bad place in my life, suffering from major depression. My English was pretty cringeworthy back then and I really almost didn't publish Salvation because I was too embarassed to write in English when it's not even my native language. But I still decided to try, and I put all of my emotion and some of my thoughts into this series as my very own form of weird therapy. And here I am four years later, and I've penned down six huge fanfictions that span across books thicker than the Harry Potter saga.
> 
> I want to use this little space right here to thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading this. It truly doesn't matter if you've only just found this piece, only skimmed through it, only read a few chapters, or if you were patient enough to read the whole series, waited for updates, or waited literal years for me to finish the whole piece.
> 
> Some of my writing has been cringe worthy, some has been terribly overdramatic, there's some really terrible grammar in this series. There's some repetition, and some is terribly boring. And yet, you've still read it. Commented on it. Liked it, given some great constructive criticism and this means SO MUCH to me.
> 
> So once again, THANK YOU.
> 
> I spent a long time wondering which song I should use for my "ending credits" (yeah I know, what a pretentious drama queen ha), but my mind always came back to Johnny Cash and I See a Darkness because the lyrics fit Connaryl a lot. So give it a listen if you want, it's a beautiful song nevertheless.
> 
> Here's also a short info that I won't be gone at all just because this series is over. Connaryl isn't done either. I'm gonna keep writing some Connaryl. Oneshots and such, maybe even something else, I don't know yet. I obviously can't stop loving them after four years xD
> 
> I also wanted to use this opportunity to tell you that I'm also currently doing a bit of a Salvation improvement rewrite because many grammatical things and some plot points bother me about it. I'm just gonna improve the writing in there though, and improve dialogue. There's not gonna be any new canon.
> 
> Anyway, that's it for Arrows and Bullets now.  
> Thank you once again for reading, I love you all.


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